


Lateralus

by daimonas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gratuitous Smut, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Romance, Sad, Smoking, Smut, Some Violence in later chapters, coffee shop AU, i promise he quits eventually, only briefly though, sorry guys i'm a slut for coffee shop aus, will probably eventually have smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 15:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10282523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daimonas/pseuds/daimonas
Summary: Nothing good ever happens to Keith Kogane. That is until one day at work, Takashi Shirogane enters his life. But good things never come easy, do they?





	1. One.

Keith wakes to a dark room, dimly lit by the twilight filtering through the slits in the blinds. He groans and squints an eye open to check the time on his phone. _6:47 AM._ He doesn’t have to be awake for another three hours and considers rolling over and going back to sleep, but he knows his efforts would be futile. Though his eyes don’t want to open, his mind is wide awake and there’s no hope of falling back asleep any time soon.

Sighing, he drags himself from the warm comfort of his blankets and lets his feet hit plush carpet. He yawns and digs the knuckle of his index finger into his eye, rubbing harder than he should to push the sleep away. With another defeated sigh, he stands, ambling over to the pile of clothes he had discarded in the middle of his room the night before. He picks them up and gives them a quick sniff to determine whether or not he can pull off wearing them again. With a shrug, he slides into the black basketball shorts and red t-shirt. After, he throws his hair back in a sloppy bun using the ever-present hair tie on his wrist and exits his bedroom to make himself breakfast.

When he gets to the kitchen, Pidge is already there, seated at the table with a bowl of cereal. Her eyes turn up as he enters and she raises an eyebrow. “You’re up before the sun? Who are you? Surely not the Keith Kogane I know.”

Keith grunts and walks over to the fridge, opening the door and leaning forward to examine its contents. “Shut up,” he says as he pulls out the carton of eggs to check the expiration date. “I just woke up and knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep.”

The eggs are only three days past expiration, which isn’t bad considering Keith doesn’t even remember when he bought them. He sets about making them, pulling a pan out of the cabinet and lighting the stove. He cracks an egg open and grabs a spatula from the dish rack on the other side of the sink. When he returns to cooking, he asks over his shoulder, “Want actual food, Pidge?”

“Nah, I’m fine with my cereal. I have to get going soon, anyway.”

“Early shift?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Bummer,” Keith says, his tone sympathetic. Pidge works at the local animal shelter and has to be there an hour before the store opens to make sure the kennels are cleaned and the animals are fed. She works the opening shift often, so there are a lot of times Keith can go days without seeing her, even though they live in the same apartment.

“Yeah, it is,” Pidge agrees. “What time do you work today?”

Keith shrugs and turns the stove off as his eggs finish. He retrieves a plate from the dish rack and dumps the eggs in the center of it. After dropping the used pan in the sink, he finally answers Pidge. “I have to be in at eleven. Might go in a little early if I get bored enough.”

“Look at you, being a model employee,” Pidge teases.

Keith huffs a laugh and grabs his bottle of hot sauce from the cabinet before sitting down at the table with his food. “I have my moments.”

Pidge grins and takes a bite of her applejacks. Some milk escapes the spoon and dribbles down her chin, which she wipes away with the back of her hand. “Have you talked to Lance or Hunk since we saw them last?” When Keith shakes his head, she continues, “Lance texted me yesterday and said they’re having a party at their place this weekend. I told them we’d be there, but that I hadn’t actually talked to you yet.”

Keith shrugs as he smothers his eggs in hot sauce and waits until his mouth is full before answering. “I don’t have any other plans.”

“I’ll let them know.”

They sit in silence the rest of the time, scrolling absent-mindedly through their phones as they eat. Keith reads an article about a detective who had been missing for over a year suddenly turning up at the Garrison with claims that the Galra, a gang from out of state, had held him captive. He had reports on their activity, but most of it was classified and couldn’t be divulged in the article. The article prompts a question from Keith and he debates whether or not he really wants to ask, especially since Pidge was about to head to work. Against his better judgment, he asks, “Have you heard anything on your father or brother?”

Keith sees Pidge’s shoulders fall out of the corner of his eye. She takes her time answering, choosing instead to slurp the rest of the milk out of her cereal bowl. When she’s finished, she sets the bowl down hard and shakes her head. “No.”

Keith turns his violet eyes to her and tries his best to smile reassuringly. “They’ll find them, Pidge. Don’t worry.”

“It’s been over a year.”

“The Garrison at least knows where they went. They could be waiting –“

“Or they could be dead,” Pidge says flatly.

Keith winces, and swallows the guilt rising in his chest from asking about them. He sighs and says, “I’m sorry, Pidge.”

Pidge shrugs sadly and grabs her bowl, scooting out of her chair and depositing the bowl in the sink. She mutters, “I’m gonna head to work. I’ll see you later, Keith.”

“See ya,” he answers, and kicks himself again for asking about the Holts.

The front door shuts behind Pidge with a decided _click_ when she leaves. Silence falls over the apartment and it’s enough to drive Keith mad. He immediately unlocks his phone and presses _shuffle_ on his music playlist. _Tool_ floods his speakers and he cranks the volume all the way up before turning to wash the dishes in the sink.

 _Here in this hopeless fucking hole we call L.A._  
_The only way to fix it is to flush it all away_  
_Any fucking time, any fucking day_  
_Learn to swim, I’ll see you down in Arizona Bay_

Keith sings the lyrics as he washes the dishes, bobbing his head along with the music. By the time the song is over, he’s finished with his one chore for the day. He glances at the time on his phone. _7:23 AM._ He sighs and brushes a few loose strands of hair out of his face. He decides that, with so much time to kill, he should do his work out before work, rather than after. Accepting his fate, he returns to his bedroom and tries to find where he had discarded his running shoes. While he tries his best to keep everything outside of his room clean (Pidge can be a bit of a neat freak sometimes), his bedroom is an entirely different story. The space is small – barely enough room to have his full-size bed, a bedside table, and a small dresser in the corner that holds a small tv and his video games – and whatever bit of carpet is showing is covered by dirty clothes or notebooks filled with his writings.

Eventually, he finds his shoes under the clothes he had last worn when he went for a run. He slides them on, tying them tight on his feet, and reaches to adjust his ponytail. He pulls the hair tie out, putting it between his lips so that he can pull his hair back tighter and make sure it’s all out of his face. When he’s content with how his hair settles, he ties the band loosely around his hair and heads out of the apartment.

The morning is just starting to heat up as the sun crests the top of the town’s buildings. Keith takes off at a slow jog to start, but it doesn’t take long for him to start pushing himself. He runs with long, smooth strides, and his breathing is expertly trained – in through the nose, out through the mouth, slowly. He finds a pace and holds it, enjoying the creeping burn in his muscles the further distance he travels. Aside from music, running and working out is his release – an outlet for the lonely anger that constantly plagues his mind. He has friends, sure, but he still can’t help always feeling like an outsider. Even though Pidge lives with him, she still has her mother to return home to, and a grandfather to take care of on the weekends. Lance and Hunk have each other (though they would never admit it) and they both were from big families. Keith has… nothing. Nothing, aside from himself.

Ignoring the self-pity that rises in his chest, Keith pushes himself harder. At the heightened pace, he feels his lungs start to burn, a sign that the control he had over his breathing is starting to slip. He’s angry, though if anyone were to ask why, he wouldn’t be able to tell them. The anger sits like a pit in his stomach – rolling, writhing like a living thing threatening to boil out of his system. He feels his legs push harder, his breathing coming in shorter, more ragged breaths. Before he knows it, he’s sprinting full-speed through the last quarter-mile of his five mile run. His legs are burning, lungs tight and threatening to collapse from lack of air, but he needs to keep going. He needs to push himself, until the anger is gone and he’s left with nothing.

By the time he reaches his apartment again, his body is threatening to collapse. He slows to a jog, and continues a bit past his apartment so he can catch his breath. When he reaches the next street corner, he turns and walks slowly back towards his apartment. He raises his hands above his head, placing his palms on sweat-covered hair, and takes deep breaths in – trying to fill his lungs with oxygen again. Before entering his apartment, he takes time to stretch his legs, spreading them to shoulder-width and leaning over to place his palms flat on the concrete. He leans over, relaxing his elbows and dropping his head down between his knees. He holds the position until his breathing evens out, then slowly raises his head again. Once righted, he rolls his shoulders once, reaching to rub a sore spot on the back of his neck as he heads into his apartment.

The music on his phone is still playing when he enters through the doorway. He walks over, picking up his phone with slender fingers, and stops the music. He catches the time just as he locks his phone again. _8:27 AM._ Keith groans.

_If this is any indication of how slow my day is going to go, I’m just gonna call of work and go back to bed now._

Ignoring his thought, he heads into the kitchen and grabs a glass of water. He chugs it, wipes the extra moisture from his lips with the back of his hand, and goes to the bathroom to shower. He turns the water on as hot as he can stand it, undresses, then unlocks his phone to play music again. After deciding on something, he climbs into the shower and closes his eyes as the water trickles over his skin.

 _Oh, take your time, don’t live too fast_  
_Troubles will come, and they will pass_  
_You’ll find a woman, and you’ll find love_  
_And don’t forget that there is someone up above_

As Keith showers, he sings along to the music. He matches the singer’s tenor – his voice coming out with the same emotional rasp at the end of every note. If there’s one thing Keith can admit loving to do, it’s singing. It’s the only memory he holds of his father before he died – both of them sitting on the front porch of their wooden house, a guitar in his father’s hand, both singing along to old rock ballads. It’s a fond memory and one Keith thinks he’ll never forget.

He finishes his shower after two songs, and passes the rest of his morning on the couch watching reruns of _Twilight Zone_ (one of his favorites that Pidge loves to make fun of him for). When the time reaches 10:20, he turns the tv off and goes to change into his work attire (tight black jeans and a grey v-neck shirt). He grabs his red leather jacket from the coat rack, sliding it over his shoulders, and grabs the keys to his motorcycle as he walks out the door.

The ride to work is uneventful, and he gets there five minutes before his shift starts. As soon as he walks through the employee door, Coran is on him. “Keith! Glad you’re here early. I could really use you up front!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let me clock in first, at least.”

“Be quick about it!”

Keith removes his jacket, hanging it on one of the hooks across the room. He grabs an apron, emblazoned with _Garrison’s Java_ across the chest, and slides it over his head, tying it in place at his back. He clocks in, throws his hair up in a half-assed bun again, and heads to the front of the store to greet customers.

The day passes in a blur. For being a Wednesday, they’re busy as fuck, and Keith feels his mood sour rather quickly. Every person that comes through the door seems to be in a pissy mood, and seems to think that the best way to fix it is to take it out on their minimum-wage barista. Keith holds his tongue as one woman berates him:

_“I ordered a low-fat, double shot French vanilla latte!”_

_“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I thought that’s what I made for you.”_

_“Well, it doesn’t taste like it. I want another.”_

_“Right away.”_

_Cunt._

When it’s finally time for him to go on lunch, Keith is ready to hit something. He walks out to his bike and opens the compartment that holds his cigarettes and other miscellaneous items. He snatches the pack of Marlboro Reds and his zippo and slams the compartment closed. He shakes a cigarette out, pops the filter in his mouth, and lights it – taking a deep drag and letting the smoke cloud his lungs. Almost instantly, he feels the nicotine flood his system, ebbing some of his anger.

He chain-smokes through his half-hour lunch break, smoking each stick down to the filter before starting a new one. When his lunch is over, he drops his half-finished cigarette on the asphalt, crushing the cherry under his boot before reluctantly returning to work.

It’s a little slower when he gets back. The after-work rush has died down, and the only people filtering in are students from the local high school looking for a place to hang out, or middle-aged people that drink coffee like their life depends on it. He chats idly with Coran, telling him his plans for the weekend, asking if he and Allura will be attending Lance and Hunk’s party. Coran says they were planning on it and adds that they’ll be bringing a keg.

Before Keith knows it, the sun is going down and it’s almost time to close. He starts his closing process early, hoping no one else will come in the last twenty minutes. Of course, Keith isn’t so lucky.

Or maybe he is, depending on how you look at it.

“Ah, it looks like you’re cleaning up. Is it too late to order something?”

Keith has his back to the customer’s counter and bristles when he hears the voice behind him. He starts speaking as he turns, not even attempting to mask the annoyance in his voice. “No, it’s not too –“

He falters when he catches site of the man on the other side of the counter. Everything about him is…overwhelming, to say the least. He’s a head taller than Keith and significantly wider. His black shirt is tight against his chest and around his shoulders, revealing much more about the man’s body than a shirt should be allowed. He’s heavily muscled, and is missing an arm - where one is flesh, the other is metal. Keith finds his eyes drifting down the man’s body before he can catch himself. Embarrassed, he snaps his eyes back to the man’s face. A white patch of hair hangs loosely across his forehead, and there’s a long scar across his nose. When Keith’s violet eyes meet the man’s, Keith is surprised by how dark they are. They’re black, almost the color of a starless night – and they’re currently shining with amusement.

Keith clears his throat, and tries speaking again. “It’s not too late to order. What can I make for you?”

The man glances at the menu, and Keith takes the moment to glance at the man’s body again. He feels his face grow warm and he brushes loose strands of hair out of his face, subtly checking his forehead for fever. When the man turns his charcoal eyes back to Keith, there’s a slightly-embarrassed grin on his face. “Alright, so, confession time – I’m not actually much of a coffee drinker. I’m just pulling a late night tonight and figured I’d stop in and see if I could find something to wake me up. Do you have any suggestions?”

 _A few,_ Keith thinks, but keeps the thought to himself. Instead, he shrugs noncommittally and says, “I have no idea what you like.”

“I’m sure you could figure it out.”

There’s something in the man’s tone that sends a thrill through Keith. He watches the man lift a corner of his mouth in a coy smirk and, suddenly, Keith decides he doesn’t want to play his game. Not yet. “I just drink regular, black coffee.”

The man’s smile grows, but he shakes his head. He glances at the menu again and says, “Make me something with hazelnut in it.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. He enters the order then looks back up at the man. “And your name?” When the man raises his eyebrow in question, Keith rolls his eyes and adds, “For your order.”

“Shiro.”

“Alright, Shiro, I’ll be right out with your coffee.”

Shiro nods and goes to sit at a table nearby. Keith makes him a hazelnut latte, his fingers expertly dancing across the machines as he does. He finishes in no time and takes the drink out to Shiro.

“One hazelnut latte for Shiro,” Keith says as he approaches the table.

Shiro looks up and his face breaks into an easy smile. He reaches out to accept the drink from Keith and, when he does, brushes his fingertips against the sensitive skin of Keith’s wrist.

The touch is like an electric shock and Keith has to fight dropping Shiro’s coffee in his lap. His eyes widen and, when he looks at Shiro, the expression is mirrored. Shiro is watching him, eyes wide, expression unreadable. They remain like that, watching each other, until Coran lets out a yelp as he drops something. Keith jumps back, eyes darting to Coran then back to Shiro. Both of them look equally flustered.

“Err – “ Keith starts, shoving his hands in his front pockets to hide their trembling. “I should get back to closing.”

Shiro clears his throat and nods, glancing away from Keith. His eyes are now cloudy and dazed, like he’s confused about something. “Yeah – yeah. Alright. I’ll get going.”

Keith nods and, without saying another word, returns to his post behind the counter. He helps Coran start closing and, when he looks to where Shiro was sitting moments before, Shiro is already gone.

“Who was that?” Coran asks, trying to hide the curiosity in voice and failing. “You two seemed to know each other.”

Keith shrugs and doesn’t look at Coran as he says, “I have no idea who that was. Just another customer.”

“Ah,” Coran says, his tone making it clear that he doesn’t believe Keith in the slightest.

The rest of the night, Keith can do nothing but think about Shiro. Something about him had seemed so _familiar_ – but what?

As Keith lays in bed that night, he scrolls through the news app on his phone. He comes across the article he had read that morning, the one about the detective that had just appeared after missing for a year. Something draws him to the article and he opens it again, curiously. As soon as he opens the article, his heart drops.

There, at the very start of the article, is a picture of Shiro. He looks different in the picture than how he had looked today. For one, his hair isn’t bleached, and two, he doesn’t have the long scar across his face. It’s no surprise that Keith hadn’t made the connection before. Of course he had looked familiar, because Keith had seen him earlier that morning in the article.

Content with his findings, Keith finally lets himself drift off to sleep.

\----

The next morning, Keith doesn’t roll out of bed until ten – much closer to a usual morning for him. He showers quickly and hurries to work, making it just in time for his eleven o’clock shift.

“Hey, hey! It’s about time you showed up!” Lance shouts as soon as Keith enters the door.

“Shut up,” Keith snaps back. He’s tired, and cranky, and not in the mood to deal with Lance’s jabs.

Lance, surprisingly, takes the hint and backs off. The day goes much the same as the day before, though with Lance there to help, it’s not as stressful. Keith is able to go through the day without paying much attention to anything, which he’s grateful for. He finds that he can’t stop his eyes from drifting to the door expectantly every time he hears the bell chime, indicating someone entering the shop.

After a few hours, Lance can’t stand it anymore. There’s a lull in customer interaction, and Keith takes the opportunity to head to the back to restock their cups. When he comes out of the backroom, he hears the bell chime, and his eyes move instinctively to the door. Lance notices and snatches the cups from Keith’s hands. “Alright, dude, level with me. Who in the world are you expecting?”

“No one,” Keith says defensively.

“Yeah, bullshit. Every time that damn bell rings, your eyes shoot to the front like you’re expecting Steven Yeun to walk through the door or something.”

“If I expected Steven Yeun to walk through the door, I would close the shop.”

“You don’t even like Glenn.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t admire the actor,” Keith counters.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t dodge the subject.”

Keith very pointedly chooses not to answer, but it’s at the very moment that Coran enters from the back room. “Keith met quite the _specimen_ last night.”

“Coran – “ Keith warns.

“You _met_ someone?” Lance asks, disbelief thick in his voice. “Who?”

“No one –“

The bell chimes, and they all pause their discussion to glance towards the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Coran teases. Keith feels his face flame.

Shiro is walking towards them, looking just as great as he had the night before. He’s dressed in a white button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and grey slacks. Keith notices for the first time that the skin of Shiro's forearm is covered in scars. How had he not noticed it before? The scars are long and darkly-colored, indicating that they couldn't have happened too long ago. _What happened to this guy in the year he was missing?_ Shiro smiles when he sees Keith, and walks straight to him.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he reaches the counter.

“Hey.”

“That coffee thing you made me last night was good. I’m here for another.”

Lance makes an obnoxious coughing sound. Keith thinks he hears the word _liar_. He shoots Lance a glare, and Lance promptly shrugs before returning to work.

“I’ll be right back,” Keith promises, and turns to make Shiro’s coffee. When he’s done, he hands the cup over to Shiro, and it doesn’t escape his notice that Shiro is very careful to _not_ touch his skin. Keith can’t help the wave of disappointment that floods his system.

When the transaction is complete, Keith wishes Shiro a good day. Shiro hesitates, his smile faltering. His eyes dart nervously to the side and Keith raises an eyebrow expectantly. Finally, Shiro takes a steadying breath and asks, “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

Keith’s eyes widen in surprise, but he recovers quickly. He feels Lance’s eyes on him, and when he’s about to tell Shiro _yes, sorry, I have plans,_ Lance interrupts, “He is, actually! He’s going to a party at my place. You should totally come, too.”

Shiro’s eyes move to Lance like he’s just now noticing him for the first time. Keith shoots daggers at Lance with his eyes, but quickly smiles when Shiro looks back at him. Shiro returns the smile, his shoulders sagging with visible relief. “A party, huh? Sounds like fun.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. Lance, ever the talker, takes a place by Keith’s side and says, “It’s going to be. So you coming?”

Shiro takes a sip of his coffee, giving himself time to consider. When he lowers the cup, he nods. “Yeah, I’ll go. What time?”

“Keith can text you the details.”

_Thank God for Lance._

“What’s your number?” Shiro asks, sliding his phone from his pocket. Keith gives him his number and watches as he enters it. Keith can’t help but notice that the scars on his forearm extend down to his hand, as well. He wonders, again, what happened to Shiro, but figures that’s a conversation for a later date.

Keith feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulls it out to check the text. It’s simple, and to the point.

 **From: Unknown Number, 4:56 PM  
** _This is Shiro._

Keith saves Shiro’s number to his phone, then slides his phone back in his pocket. When he confirms that he received the text, Shiro nods and says, “Well, I have to get back to work. See you tomorrow?”

Keith fights a smile, but finds himself grinning, anyway. “See you tomorrow.”

Shiro smiles and nods at Lance as he leaves. As soon as the door closes behind him, Lance whirls on Keith. “Dude! You weren’t going to tell me about _him?_ Did you _see_ that guy?”

Lance makes a big deal about fanning himself. Keith finds himself laughing, despite everything.

Through the rest of his shift, Keith feels the weight of his phone in his pocket like he’s carrying a cinder block around. As soon as he clocks out, he has his phone out and is texting Shiro.

 **To: Shiro, 8:07 PM  
** _The party is tomorrow at 7. We can meet here at 6:30 and head over?_

The reply back is almost immediate, and Keith feels a thrill rush through his body.

 **From: Shiro, 8:08 PM  
** _Sounds good. :) I can’t wait._

\-----

As Keith is laying in bed that night, he rolls over and picks up his phone. He hadn’t replied to Shiro earlier, and opens the text to read it again. His heart hums in anticipation of seeing Shiro again. He takes a breath to calm his nerves, and finally types back a reply.

 **To: Shiro, 1:18 AM  
** _Sorry it’s so late. Just wanted to let you know that I can’t wait, either._

He hits send, and finally lets himself drift to sleep.

For once, he goes to bed looking forward to tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Voltron fic. I've been so damn excited to write it, so I hope y'all enjoy it. I'm literally just throwing all of my favorite things at you (bands, songs, actors, etc.) so that's fun. I can't wait to get this fic really going. It's gonna be a wild ride, so stay tuned. <3


	2. Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long to release. It's been a struggle because I couldn't decide on some decisions I wanted to make with the fic. But, I have everything sorted now, and will try to update more regularly. I hope you enjoy!

It’s no surprise to anyone at all that Keith hates morning. Yet, here he is, before the sun has even entirely crested the horizon, making coffee for a woman who looks just as dead as he feels.

“One triple caramel macchiato for Larmina,” Keith says, and hands the paper cup over to the red-haired girl. Larmina smiles weakly and thanks him, dropping a couple dollars into his tip jar. Keith acknowledges the gesture with a nod and the girl turns to exit the shop.

The bell chimes when she exits, and Keith watches as she steps out of the way for two other people entering the shop. Keith doesn’t know why, but the second he sees the pair, his nerves stand on edge. He feels like he should run, but he fights the urge and stands his ground.

Keith notices the man first, only because of how damn _big_ he is. He stands well over six feet, and is sizeable enough that he looks like he could crush Keith’s face with a single hand. His arms are wider than Keith’s thighs, corded with thick muscle, and heavily tattooed. He wears a black, hand-made muscle shirt that clings to his chest and abdomen like a second skin. His jeans are just as tight, revealing thighs that could easily break any human between them, and are tucked into heavy, black combat boots. His eyes are such a light brown that they almost look yellow and one is marred with a thick scar. The scar extends from the middle of his forehead, through his eye, and stops just past his cheekbone. His hair is buzzed short, but there’s a shadow that indicates it would be black if allowed to grow out.

Keith moves his eyes to the woman trailing just behind the monster of a man. She’s dwarfed compared to him, but Keith realizes with a start that she’s just shorter than Keith himself is. She has long, white hair that frames a narrow physique, but most of it is covered with a hood that hangs to just above her eyes. The jacket she wears is too large for her frame and hangs to mid-thigh. Her jeans are tight and torn to shreds, disappearing into combat boots similar to her partner’s.

Keith watches warily as the pair approach the counter, and walks hesitantly to the register before asking, “What can I get for you?”

The pair glance at each other, then back to Keith. The man moves his eyes to just above Keith’s head, studying the menu for a brief moment before he orders. When he speaks, his voice is deep, and there’s a grumble to it that causes Keith’s heart to beat a tad faster. “I just want regular coffee, black.”

Keith nods and turns his gaze to the woman. She shakes her head, but otherwise doesn’t say a word. Keith raises an eyebrow, but turns his attention back to the man. “And your name?”

The man smiles like he’s just remembered a joke, but the smile looks wrong on his face. The smile is cruel, and intimidating. Keith feels his stomach drop.

“Sendak.”

Keith nods, entering the order. He turns away from the pair and grabs a paper cup from next to the air-pot, settling it beneath the nozzle and pumping a few lines of coffee into its contents. When the cup is full, he settles a lid over the top and hands the cup to Sendak. Keith can’t help to notice just how small his hand is compared to the man’s.

Sendak pays for his coffee and, without another word, the pair exit the shop. Keith watches them the entire time and when the door closes behind them, he lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?”

Keith jumps at the voice and whirls around to see Coran entering from the back of the store. Keith puts a hand on his chest to still his fast-beating heart and narrows his eyes at Coran. “You aren’t due to be in for another hour. What are you doing here?”

Coran shrugs and twists a small strand of his orange mustache between two fingers. “I was awake and had nothing else planned for the day. I have a few things I was wanting to take care of today, so I figured I’d come in early to get started. I saw that Sendak fellow staring you down rather nastily, and figured it was in my best interest to stick around here before getting to work in the office.”

Keith looks to the front of the store, where Sendak and the woman had just left through. The sun has finally peaked the tops of the buildings across the street and casts an illuminating glow on the small town’s main street. Sendak and the woman are long gone and Keith feels some of the built-up tension leave his body.

“Have you ever seen them before?”

“I haven’t and honestly, I hope I never do again,” Coran says with a decisive shiver. He turns away from Keith, then, and waves as he heads back to his office.

Keith silently agrees, and returns to his work.

The rest of his morning passes annoyingly slow. Everyone that comes in is in a shit mood and doesn’t spend a lot of time interacting with Keith outside of ordering their drinks or food. By mid-morning, Keith has a headache and is dying for a cigarette to kill his rising annoyance. Right on cue, Coran enters from the back room to give Keith his lunch. Keith grabs an apple muffin from the display case and takes a bite from it before turning to head outside.

The sun is warm on his face when he exits the shop. He walks over to his bike, retrieves his cigarettes and lighter from their compartment, then hikes his leg over the bike to rest comfortably in its seat. He finishes the muffin in a couple more bites and immediately lights a cigarette when he’s done. After he’s taken a long drag, he pulls his back phone from his pocket to check for texts.

**From: SirLancelot, 9:48 AM  
** _hey queefbait, u ever hear from that gorgeous guy again? is he actually comin tonight????_

**To: SirLancelot, 10:37 AM  
** _First off, when did you get hold of my phone to change your name? Second, I haven’t heard from him today yet, no._

**From: SirLancelot, 10:37 AM  
** _boooo :(((( well u have his number u should text him_

**From: SirLancelot, 10:37 AM  
** _if u let that one slip through ur fingers i will personally hurt u_

**From: SirLancelot, 10:37 AM  
** _also i have my ways queef ;)))_

**To: SirLancelot, 10:38 AM  
** _Stop calling me that. >:( And I don’t really want to push him. I think he was just saying yes because you put him on the spot. No way that guy is actually interested in me. Besides, you don’t think he’ll mind that I’m..?_

**From: SirLancelot, 10:38 AM  
** _UHHHHMMM???? don’t even go there dude. u kno u look great. anyone would be lucky to have you. i would hit it_

**To: SirLancelot, 10:39 AM  
** _You have hit it, Lance. More than once._

**From: SirLancelot, 10:39 AM  
** _that’s besides the point_

**From: SirLancelot, 10:40 AM  
** _anyway, u better text him dude. he looks like a good guy_

**From: SirLancelot, 10:40 AM  
** _u know, aside from his scars and missing arm but no one can be perfect_

**To: SirLancelot, 10:41 AM  
** _I’ll text him when I’m out of work. I’m out early enough that it’ll still give him time to think about it before we’re supposed to meet._

**From: SirLancelot, 10:42 AM  
** _good. anyway, gotta fly. hunk and i need to finish cleanin this place up. peace, queef_

**To: SirLancelot, 10:42 AM  
** _Call me that one more time and I will kill you._

**From: SirLancelot, 10:43 AM  
** _;)))))_

Keith shakes his head at his phone, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he tucks the phone back into his back pocket and returns to smoking what’s left of his cigarette. When it’s nearly finished, he hears heavy footsteps behind him. It’s not unusual for other people to walk down the alley, but something about the footsteps still his heart. He tries his best to appear nonchalant, but he can’t help the stiffness in his back when he hears the steps pause behind him.

“Thought you’d never take a break, pretty boy.”

The already-familiar grumble in the voice sends a chill down Keith’s spine. Not wanting to give in to the anxiety rising in his chest, he turns on his bike to see Sendak standing a few paces behind him, wearing the same leery smile that had caused Keith’s stomach to drop earlier that morning. Keith arches a brow when he realizes Sendak is alone and chooses to ignore the _pretty boy_ comment. “Where’s your friend?”

“Haggar had other matters to attend to. She wishes she could be here though.”

“Oh?” Keith challenges, and moves to get off his bike. When both feet are planted firmly on the ground, Keith squares his shoulders back. “And what, exactly, is it that you two want?”

“It’s simple, really. All we want is information.”

The answer isn’t something Keith is expecting, and he’s momentarily caught off-guard. His brows draw together in confusion. “Information?”

Sendak takes a step closer and Keith tenses. The man’s smile turns predatory and he narrows his eyes at Keith. “We saw you talking to Black yesterday. When he left, we overheard him call someone and refer to you as Red. We know you’re a part of Voltron, and we want you to tell us who else is a part of it.”

Sendak may as well be speaking a foreign language for all Keith understands.

“Vol…tron? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t toy with me,” Sendak threatens, the smile he’d been wearing since the beginning of their conversation disappearing from his face entirely. He presses his lips into a hard, angry line and Keith feels his anxiety spike. “I know you’re working with Voltron and I want you to tell me who else you’re working with.”

Keith shifts his weight to the balls of his feet and bends his knees slightly, subconsciously preparing himself to defend himself if Sendak chose to charge him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sendak.”

Sendak snarls and turns his head to spit on the ground. He takes a step forward and Keith tenses, but doesn’t move – even when Sendak’s face is mere inches away from his own.

“This was going to be a peace offer, Paladin, but if you’re not going to tell me who else you’re working with, we’re done here.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keith says again through gritted teeth.

They stand there for a moment, each breathing heavily with the anticipation of the coming fight. Sendak is completely overwhelming, towering over Keith by nearly a foot, but Keith meets his gaze with an unwavering expression of his own.

Finally, Sendak takes a step back and turns his head to spit again. He watches Keith through narrowed eyes and growls, “You better watch your back, Red.”

The use of the name that Keith doesn’t feel he belongs to sends a fiery anger coursing through his veins. He has no idea who Black is, or why the person had referred to him as Red. He has no idea what Voltron is, or why Sendak is so eager to learn more about it. He has no idea why the fuck Sendak had referred to him as Paladin, or why he had suddenly appeared like he had been watching Keith the entire day. He decides he hates the name, that he hates Sendak, and he sure as hell hates whoever Black is. He didn’t ask for any of this to be brought into his life and honestly, he didn’t _want_ any of it.

He just wants to be Keith Kogane, barista at Garrison’s Java and hopeful future writer.

Keith watches Sendak as he walks away, and waits a minute or two after he leaves until he finally lets himself relax. He glances down at the cigarette he still holds loosely between his fingers and takes one final drag from it before crushing it under his boot.  He returns the cigarettes and lighter to their compartment in his bike and heads back inside. As soon as he comes through the back door, Coran calls him to the front. Keith keeps the complaining groan to himself and grabs his apron from the hook, tying it around his body as he heads to the front to greet the lunch rush.

There’s a line of people at the counter that extends nearly to the entrance of the store. Keith welcomes the distraction and, for once, doesn’t mind the unending line of half-awake zombies that shuffle their way into the shop. He waits on customer after customer and before he knows it, he glances down at the clock and sees that it’s 2:30. He sighs a breath of relief when the final customer walks away from the counter.

“Well, Keith,” Coran says, turning to him with a grin. “I think I’ll be good now. The new guy should be coming in soon, so if you want to go ahead and skedaddle, I won’t hold it against you.”

“New guy? Since when is there a new guy?”

“Since yesterday when I hired him. I had to come in this morning to finish up his paperwork and get him on the schedule. His name is Kolivan. He’s big and looks quite…intimidating, but he’s actually a very kind man. I think you two will get along.”

Keith nods noncommittally and reaches to untie his apron. “Cool. Well, thanks for letting me get out of here early, Coran. I’ll see ya later tonight.”

Coran waves Keith off as a customer enters through the front door. He greets them enthusiastically and Keith takes his cue to leave. He hangs his apron on the hook by the door as he exits.

The sun is warm on his face when he exits the shop. He takes a moment to savor the feeling, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sun. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and takes it out to check the message.

**From: Shiro, 2:37 PM  
** _I’m sorry I haven’t texted yet today – work has been hell. Do you still want to meet at Garrison’s when I get off work?_

**To: Shiro, 2:37 PM  
** _Yeah I’ll meet you here. I’m sorry that work sucks. It’s okay if you don’t want to go tonight. I know when I have hellish days at work, I would rather stay in._

**From: Shiro, 2:39 PM  
** _Nah, I definitely need a drink tonight. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss a chance to see you again. I’ve been looking forward to it all day._

Keith stills. He reads the message. Reads it again. He swallows, momentarily stunned over the fact that, not only was he going to meet up with someone severely out of his league tonight, but said person was looking forward to it – looking forward to seeing _him._

Keith feels warmth spread through his body completely unrelated to the sun’s heat pouring over his skin.

**To: Shiro, 2:39 PM  
** _I’ve.. been looking forward to it, as well._

**From: Shiro, 2:41 PM  
** _:) I have to head back to work now. Stop distracting me._

Keith feels himself smile and suddenly, the hesitation he had felt before completely dissipates. Before he can stop himself, he replies:

**To: Shiro, 2:41 PM  
** _I can be more distracting.._

**From: Shiro, 2:41 PM  
** _As tempting as that sounds, I really do have to get back to work. Perhaps… we can elaborate on that later?_

**To: Shiro, 2:42 PM  
** _Of course. Now get back to work, slacker._

When he sends the message, Keith smiles again. He shakes his head, running a hand down his face and letting out a soft giggle, surprising himself. Keith does a lot of things, but he doesn’t _giggle._

_Get it together, man. He’s just another guy. Besides, you just met him._

_Then why does it feel like I’ve known him my whole life?_

Keith shakes off the feeling, clearing his throat and finally shoving his phone in his back pocket as he throws his leg over his bike. The ride home is uneventful and there’s barely anyone on the road, so he makes it home before the clock even turns to three.

When he enters the apartment, Pidge is sitting on the couch, curled in a tight ball under a blanket. _How It’s Made_ plays softly on the tv but, other than the light from the show, every light on the apartment is turned off. Keith closes the door softly behind him and takes a tentative step into the apartment. “Pidge?”

Pidge groans and curls into a tighter ball, moving the blanket over her head. Keith sits on the arm of the couch by her head. He watches the mound of blanket as he asks, “Everything alright?”

Pidge moves the blanket down from her face and tucks it under her chin. She keeps squinted eyes on the tv as she groans, “Migraine.”

“Ah,” Keith says, nodding sympathetically. He taps her shoulder, urging her to sit up. When she does, he slides onto the couch and she lays her head in his lap. He runs gentle fingers through her hair and she sighs, closing her eyes.

They remain like that through the rest of the _How It’s Made_ episode. When it’s over, Keith looks down to ask Pidge if she’d taken medicine, but stops short when he catches sight of her. Her eyes are closed, her breathing coming slow and even through her open mouth. She’s dead asleep and Keith smiles. He decides to let her sleep and continues his gentle petting through her hair. He leans forward, trying his best not to disturb her, and grabs his gaming controller from the coffee table in front of them. He presses the center button on the controller to turn the console on and switches the tv over to the channel it needs to be on for his gaming.

He sits with Pidge for hours, letting her sleep on his lap and occasionally offering comforting pets through her hair if she starts to stir. When the time finally reaches six, he turns his game off and sets the controller on the side table by the couch. He puts his hand on PIdge’s shoulder and nudges her slightly. She moans sleepily and squints her eyes open, turning them to Keith.

“Keith?” She grumbles, rubbing her eyes to try to wake herself up.

Keith smiled down at her. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Shut up.”

Keith laughs. “Feeling better?”

Pidge yawns and follows it up with a curt nod. “Much. Thank you for letting me sleep on you. You make a comfortable pillow.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

Pidge pats Keith’s knee before finally sitting up and stretching. “It’s a good thing. For me, at least.”

“Well.. good, then. Are you still going to Lance and Hunk’s tonight?”

Pidge pauses to consider, but eventually nods. “Yeah, I’ll still go. I probably won’t drink, though. I don’t want my migraine coming back.”

“Understandable,” Keith says, then nudges Pidge with an elbow and smiles. “It’s a good thing you’re coming. I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Is it the total hunk of a man that Lance keeps telling me about?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Lance doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

Pidge laughs and Keith finds himself smiling back. Of all the foster families he had ended up with through his years, he will forever be grateful that he ended up with the Holts last. They had been a God-send after the family before. Originally, he had thought them all a little strange, but once he had warmed up to them, he and Pidge had grown close rather quickly. Within months, they had become inseparable and Keith knew in his heart that he had found his forever home.

“Do you need to shower or anything?”

“Nah,” Pidge says with a shrug. “I probably should, but I think I’m just gonna grunge it up today.”

Keith shakes his head, but doesn’t comment. He couldn’t tell you how many times Pidge had had to deal with him not showering for a few days when he fell into one of his ruts. It happened more often than he likes to admit.

“Do you need anything?” he asks, standing from the couch and stretching his arms above his head. His limbs are sore from being in the same position for hours. He lets out a groan when he leans to the side and his back loosens with a resounding _pop_.

“Not right now. I might grab some cereal or something for dinner.”

Keith drops his arms back down to his sides. “You can’t survive on a diet of cereal and frozen burritos, Pidge.”

She sticks her tongue out, blowing a raspberry in Keith’s direction. “You’re one to talk, Mr. All I Do is Eat Pizza Rolls and Drink Beer Kogane.”

Keith laughs. “Touché.”

Pidge smiles and stands to give Keith a playful shove in the direction of the bathroom. “Go shower, lover boy.”

Keith tries to harden his expression and look annoyed, but the darkening of his cheeks gives him away and makes him look more like a child about to toss itself on the ground in a random tantrum. “I am not a ‘lover boy’.”

“Yet,” Pidge teases with a wink. She turns and makes her way to the kitchen before Keith can retort.

 _Yet,_ Keith agrees silently.

The thought sends a thrill through him.

Keith shakes off the thought and goes to shower. After, he steals Pidge’s blow dryer and dries his hair enough to make it look like he put at least a little effort into his appearance. He decides to leave his hair down for once and goes to his bedroom to change.

He’s standing at his closet looking for a shirt when he hears Pidge’s voice behind him.

“Wear your black pants.”

Keith jumps and subconsciously grabs the towel wrapped around his waist to check its security. Pidge laughs and Keith scowls at her. “You’ll have to be more specific. I have a lot of black pants.”

Pidge spoons a bite of cereal from the bowl in her hands and winks at Keith. “You know which ones I’m talking about,” she says between bites.

Keith rolls his eyes, but grins. He walks over to herd her out of his room. “Next time, knock before opening the door.”

“You left the door open, idiot.”

Keith ignores the jab and closes the door on her, then turns back to his room to look for his infamous pair of black pants – the pair that made him look like he actually had an ass worth ogling.

Surprisingly enough, he finds them clean and folded in one of his drawers. He grabs a clean, plain black v-neck from his closet and a red-and-black flannel to go over his shirt. He changes quickly, rolling the flannel’s sleeves up to his elbows, and grabs a black beanie from the dresser as he walks out of his room. He slips the beanie on as he goes to find Pidge.

“So?” he asks when he enters the front room, where Pidge has seated herself again as she finishes her cereal. “How does it look?”

Pidge glances over and lets out a low whistle. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to impress someone.”

Keith groans. “ _You_ were the one that suggested the pants.”

“I always knew I was the best little sibling ever.”

“You’re barely a year younger than me.”

“But still younger, old man.”

Keith huffs a laugh and takes his phone out of his back pocket to check the time. It’s close to seven – close enough, Keith figures, to go meet Shiro.

“I’m gonna head out. I’ll see you there.”

“Knock ‘em dead, lover boy.”

Keith can’t help his smile.

\----

It’s 7:42 and Keith is on his eighth cigarette since arriving at Garrison’s.

Keith can’t hide the disappointment that leaks into his features through his shaking hands. He raises the cigarette to his lips – inhales, exhales – and lets out a breathy, “ _Fuck.”_

He should have known better. He should have known that someone that seemed as good as Shiro would never actually be interested in someone like him. Shiro is everything Keith ever looks for in a man – charming, confident (but humble about it), built like a fucking tank (not that looks mattered, but God damn what Keith wouldn’t do to be able to run his hands down that chest, those arms, that stomach…)

Keith shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, jabbing the tips of his thumb and index finger into the corners of his eyes, trying to shake the image from his mind. He doesn’t know Shiro – at all. He has no idea what had caused Shiro to make plans with him, but he isn’t going to allow himself to over-think it now.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

He glances at the time again and takes another angry drag from his cigarette. Just as he’s about to put his phone back in his pocket, he feels it vibrate in his hand.

**From: Shiro, 7:46 PM  
** _Keith, I’m so sorry I’m running late. Something came up at work that held me over. I’ll be there in five minutes._

Keith doesn’t bother replying and lights a new cigarette with the embers of his old one. He watches the time pass as he smokes – one minute, two minutes, three minutes, four – and, true to his word, Shiro is pulling into the parking lot in a black Mazda 6 five minutes later. Keith kicks off his bike and takes one final drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and grinding it under his boot.

“Keith,” Shiro starts when Keith slides into the passenger seat. “I am so –“

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith interrupts with a slight shrug of his shoulder. He offers what he hopes is a convincing smile, though by the look in Shiro’s eyes, it’s probably more of a grimace.

Shiro takes the hint, though, and doesn’t press the subject. Instead, he clears his throat and cocks an eyebrow curiously. “So.. where are we off to?”

Keith instructs Shiro on where they’re going. Shiro knows the place and smoothly shifts his car into first gear as he pulls out of the parking lot. All the while, Keith works on smothering the mood he had worked himself into while waiting for Shiro.

“Nice car,” Keith attempts, lamely. He shoots a glance in Shiro’s direction and takes in a shaking breath.

_What is your problem, dude? Get your shit together._

“It’s not technically mine, but thank you.”

Keith turns his gaze to Shiro again and holds it there, brows raised in slight amusement. “What do you mean by ‘technically’ yours?”

Shiro glances at Keith and flashes him a smile before returning his attention back to the road. “I work as a detective for the city and, apparently, the higher-ups like for me to appear ‘professional,’ so when I started working for them, they gave me one of their unused cars.”

“They had a brand new Mazda 6 just lying around?”

Shiro chuckles. “One of the officers had bought it for his wife as a birthday present, but they got divorced soon after. He didn’t want it, so the precinct took over the payments. They decided to loan it to me for the time being.”

“Seems like luck is on your side.”

Shiro glances at Keith again and shoots a quick, appreciative look down Keith’s body. When he brings his dark-as-night eyes back to Keith’s, he winks and says, “Seems like.”

Keith feels his face flame and he turns his gaze to the window, trying to hide the stupid grin that passes over his face. Why is he acting like such a teenaged kid with a ridiculous crush? He’s a grown man, and adults don’t act this dumb around someone they’re interested in; particularly when that adult’s name is Keith Kogane.

So what is is about Shiro that makes him so damn giddy?

They settle into a comfortable silence after and arrive at Lance and Hunk’s apartment ten minutes later. Shiro parks the car along the curb and takes the keys out of the ignition before turning to Keith. “Anything I should be prepared for, meeting your friends?”

Keith grins and opens his door. “Nothing I say will prepare you to meet my friends.”

He exits the car before Shiro has the chance to respond.

They enter the foyer of the apartment complex and push the call button. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, Lance’s voice sounds through the speaker. “Yo yo, who’s there?”

“It’s me,” Keith says dryly.

“Queef! Come on up, buddy!”

Keith groans, but the sound is drowned by the opening of the elevator doors across the hall. Keith jams his fists in the pockets of his jacket and enters the lift, followed closely by Shiro. Keith is too occupied with pressing the button for the third floor to acknowledge what’s about to happen.

The second the elevator door closes, Keith’s heart clenches and he sucks in a breath.

Suddenly, he’s all-too-aware of Shiro’s presence behind him. The elevator is small, barely large enough to fit three people. Shiro stands close and Keith realizes that if he leans back just half an inch, he’d be leaning against Shiro’s chest. Keith swallows, trying to still his racing heart, and he briefly wonders if his proximity is affecting Shiro in the same way.

When the doors open and Shiro clears his throat before reluctantly shuffling out behind Keith, he has his answer.

“Keith, buddy!” Hunk shouts down the hall. He’s leaning through the open doorway of his apartment, waving at the pair of them. “Nice to see you here! Come on in! Is that Mr. Handsome with you?”

Keith sputters, feeling his cheeks go pink. He hears Shiro laugh behind him and he groans, trying his hardest not to just turn and run away now.

_Kill me._

“Mr. Handsome here,” Shiro says as they reach Hunk. “But, please, call me Shiro.”

Hunk laughs and winks at Shiro. “You’re alright, man. Come on in, you two. Everyone is already here.”

Hunk turns into the apartment, followed closely by Keith and Shiro. They walk through a short hallway before entering the main room – where Lance, Pidge, Allura, Coran, and a few other guests are already gathered, drinks in hand. There are several other people standing in small groups throughout the apartment, but the bulk of the party is present in the main room. Music pumps loudly through Lance’s expensive surround system, and the lights shine dimly in the corners – dim enough that Keith’s eyes have to adjust to the lack of light, but still bright enough that he can see across the room.

When the trio enter from the hall, Lance glances over and smiles. “Keith! Shiro! Glad you could make it!”

The few people that are gathered on the couch turn their attention over and smile – all except Pidge. Instead of a smile, her face twists into a grimace, and she raises her drink to her lips and starts chugging. Keith’s brows knit together, but he decides to ask her about it later.

“Shiro,” he says, angling his body so he can look between Shiro and the group. “This is Pidge, Allura, and Coran. You’ve already met Lance.”

Shiro nods at all of them as he’s introduced. Everyone says hello, and just as Allura is about to ask Shiro about himself, she’s interrupted by Pidge crushing her solo cup between her hands. Allura turns to her, eyebrows raised, and says, “Pidge? Is everything –“

“I’m thirsty,” Pidge interrupts, refusing to look at anyone. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Everyone watches as she stands, swaying a bit already, and stomps angrily toward the kitchen. Keith turns to Shiro, an apologetic expression on his face. “I don’t know what her problem is. She seemed perfectly fine earlier.”

Shiro glances at Keith, and something in his expression causes Keith to raise an eyebrow. When Shiro speaks, Keith can barely hear him over the music. “If that’s who I think it is, you may want to go talk to her.” When Keith is about to argue, Shiro shakes his head and nods toward the kitchen. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

Keith sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This is not how he wanted tonight to go.

“I’ll be back,” he mumbles.

Keith takes his leave with a sigh and heads to the kitchen. There are a few people there already but, after a quick scan, Keith realizes none of them are Pidge. He walks to the fridge and grabs one of the beers he had left last time he was here and pops the tab open, taking a swig before entering further into the apartment to find Pidge. He eventually finds her outside, sitting in a lawn chair on the balcony outside of Lance and Hunk’s room.

At the sound of the door sliding open, Pidge jumps, but doesn’t look over. She takes a swig of her fresh beer before saying, “You could have warned me about who you were bringing tonight.”

Keith flops into the chair next to her and says, “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

Pidge snorts and shakes her head. “Unbelievable. You know, for being one of the smartest people I know, you can be so _stupid_ sometimes.”

“Excuse me?”

They fall into silence for a moment. In the moment, Pidge takes another long drink from her beer, chugging nearly half the cup before finally setting it down. She hiccups, once, then turns her attention to Keith, “Shiro is short for Shirogane. Takashi Shirogane. Does that name ring a bell?”

Keith shrugs. “I mean, I read an article on him a few days ago where it talked about him – oh..”

The realization hits Keith like a slap in the face.

“He was the third detective working with your dad and brother?”

Pidge laughs sarcastically and nods.

“Pidge, I’m sorry. I didn’t – “

“It’s fine, Keith.” She sighs before continuing. “I’m sorry for how I reacted. It was just..a shock, is all. To see him tonight. There’s so much I want to ask him..”

“Honestly, your reaction is pretty mild compared to how I would have reacted, so it’s fine. I’m sure Shiro would be open to talking to you, if he knew who you were.”

Pidge shakes her head and pushes her glasses up her nose with her index finger. She takes another drink of her drink before turning to Keith. “We’re here to have fun tonight. As badly as I want to know, I won’t spoil your first date with him by hogging him to myself. I’ll have plenty of time to get to know him.”

“Oh? What makes you think there’s going to be a next time?”

Pidge smiles. “I’m your sister. I know these things.”

Keith laughs, but decides not to argue. He takes a drink from his beer before getting up and following Pidge back to the front room.

When they enter, Shiro is sitting on the couch between Allura and Lance, beer in hand, engrossed in whatever story Lance is telling. He moves his eyes slowly over to Keith and, when their eyes meet, Shiro’s face breaks into a gentle smile. Keith has to resist melting into a pile of over-exaggerated happiness and instead forces himself to move into the room.

“Keith!” Lance says when he notices him, moving over to give Keith room to sit next to Shiro, which he does. They’re sitting close enough for their thighs to touch and Keith pretends to ignore Shiro adjusting his foot so their legs press together. Instead, he moves his attention to Lance, who still hasn’t stopped talking. “-telling Shiro about how we met Allura. Did you know they knew each other already?”

Keith turns his gaze to Shiro and Allura, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

Shiro glances over at Allura and smiles warmly before looking back at Keith. “We went to high school together, and we’ve done some work together since. We also knew each other when we were kids, but lost touch when I moved to the city.”

Allura laughs and places a gentle hand on Shiro’s shoulder. Keith notices the intimacy of the touch – they more than just knew each other in high school – but decides the conversation is best to approach later. He takes a long drink of his beer to quench the jealousy rising in his throat.

“As I was saying –“ Lance continues, and launches into the story of how he had invited Coran to one of his parties, only because he worked for him. Coran had asked if he could bring someone and, desperate to get a glimpse into his employer’s life, Lance had agreed. The second he saw Allura, he’d been “head over heels” for her (which everyone rolled their eyes at).

The rest of the night passed relatively uneventfully. Most of the night was filled with the group sharing stories to Shiro. Shiro shared a few of his own, and Keith couldn’t help but realize how captivating he was. When he spoke, everyone listened, even if what he was talking about didn’t matter in the least to anyone in the room. He filled the room with his presence and Keith couldn’t help but be impressed.

When the time nears one in the morning, Keith sets the remains of his tenth (eleventh?) beer on the table in front of him. He knocks a few cans over trying to set his down, but groans and decides not to pick them up. His head is starting to spin and he knows if he leans over, he’s probably going to get sick. Shiro takes notice and places a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder. He leans in closer so he can speak softly into Keith’s ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

Keith nods and lets his head fall slightly to the side so it leans against Shiro’s forehead. He feels Shiro smile and shift his head to press a light kiss to Keith’s temple. Keith, on impulse, is about to turn his head to press his lips to Shiro’s when Shiro leans back to announce to everyone that they’re leaving. Keith catches empty air and falls forward until his head is resting lightly on Shiro’s shoulder. He hadn’t meant to get this drunk, but he had lost count of how many he had while they all sat around talking.

When Shiro is finished saying their goodbyes, he stands and Keith groans. He hears Shiro chuckle before grabbing his hands to hoist him up. Keith stumbles forward and Shiro steadies him, waits until he finds his balance to lean over and ask, “Do you want to stay here? Or go home?”

Keith thinks for a moment. He wants to sleep, but he also doesn’t want to sleep anywhere but his own bed.

“I think – I think I want to go home..”

Shiro nods and moves to slip his arm around Keith to support him. Keith welcomes the support and leans heavily into Shiro’s frame. He tries his best to ignore just how hard Shiro’s body is against his, but it doesn’t take long for Keith’s mind to wander, imagining just exactly how Shiro would look with the fabric removed…

“You okay?” Shiro asks, startling Keith back to alertness. They’re outside now and Shiro is standing in front of the open passenger door of his car. Keith nods, pushing all images of a shirtless Shiro out of his mind before climbing into the car. Shiro waits until Keith is settled before closing the door and walking around the car to get in on his side.

Keith tells Shiro where he lives and Shiro punches it into the GPS before pulling away from the curb. Keith lets his head lull back on the seat and he closes his eyes against his spinning vision. He doesn’t remember much of the drive back to his apartment but, before he knows it, Shiro is opening his door again to help him out of his car.

“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbles when he turns to grab Shiro’s outstretched hand.

Shiro hoists Keith up and steadies him a moment before taking a step back to shut the door. When he turns back, he slides his arm around Keith again and starts walking towards Keith’s apartment. “What are you apologizing for?”

Keith shrugs and leans his weight into Shiro again. “For getting – so –nnn..” he groans and closes his eyes again. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “ – so drunk.”

“It’s alright, Keith. I had fun tonight.”

Keith smiles. When they near his apartment door, he clumsily reaches into his pocket and digs around for a few moments until he finds his key. He hands it over to Shiro, who unlocks the front door with a steady hand and leads the pair inside.

“My room.. is – is in the back..” Keith manages, feeling himself drifting off again. Shiro leads him to his room, going as far as to walk him to his bed. Keith finally detaches himself from Shiro’s side and flops onto the bed. Before laying down, he unties his boots, kicking them off next to his bed, and takes off his shirt.

As soon as he realizes his mistake, he freezes.

Even in his drunken state, he feels his anxiety spike. He swallows, preparing himself for Shiro’s expression, before finally looking up.

When he does, he feels his heart drop.

Shiro is definitely staring, though not in the way Keith usually expects. He expects disgust, confusion, the anger that comes with feeling betrayed. But the only expression he sees on Shiro’s face is, put simply, awe.

Shiro looks to be in complete awe of Keith’s body.

Keith clears his throat and bunches his shirt in his fists, bringing it up to hide the scars on his chest, directly below his pectoral muscles. He feels his heartbeat pick up and hammer heavily in his chest. “I’m sorry – I didn’t – shit. Shiro –“

“Keith,” Shiro says softly. Keith continues his string of apologies, trying desperately to make up for not saying anything sooner, until Shiro says his name softly again. “Keith.”

Keith goes quiet for a moment, trying to still his breathing. He closes his eyes against the spinning room once again and, when he opens them, Shiro is kneeling in front of him. Keith sucks in a breath and feels his heart stop. Shiro reaches forward and grabs Keith’s hands, and Keith hesitantly lets him pull his hands away from his chest. The shirt falls into his lap and he focuses on keeping his breathing steady.

Shiro brings Keith’s knuckles to his lips, and presses a gentle kiss on the back of his hands. His eyes find Keith’s again and he says, quietly, but filled with emotion.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

Keith chokes on the relief that floods his system. He’s so used to – he was expecting – but this? He didn’t – he couldn’t –

Shiro presses another kiss to the back of Keith’s hands, drawing Keith’s attention to the simple gesture. Keith finds himself smiling, despite himself, and leans forward to place his forehead against Shiro’s. Shiro doesn’t move, only lets Keith rest their foreheads together, and closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” Keith whispers, then sits back up and sighs. His head is still spinning and, really, all he wants to do is get to sleep.

Shiro picks up on the queue and, with one final kiss to the back of Keith’s hands, stands. “Get some rest, Keith.”

Keith nods and lays down, allowing Shiro to pull a blanket over his body. When he’s tucked in, Shiro brushes a few strands of his hair behind his ear. Keith offers a light moan of content at the gesture and relaxes more into his pillow.

“Goodnight, Keith,” Shiro whispers and turns away.

“’Night, Shiro..”

The last thing Keith remembers before falling asleep is the light turning off, and the click of the door closing as Shiro left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm so sorry for the delay. I'll try to update more regularly, and am hoping to have the next chapter out by the middle of next week.
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/lunaaxhawke)
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by one of the absolute loves of my life, [uptca.](https://twitter.com/uptca) Thank you so much for all you do for me, babe. You're amazing. <3


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQbjS0_ZfJ0).

Keith wakes to his phone buzzing away on his nightstand. He creaks his eyes open, narrowing a hard glare at the offending noise, before finally giving in and smashing his hand over it. He clumsily disconnects it from the charger and drags it across the top of the nightstand, picking it up at the last second and bringing it to his ear.

“What?” he growls, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Pidge’s voice sounds from the other side of the line. She sounds awake – chipper.

Keith hates her, but not really.

“’Morning,” Keith finally responds, running a heavy hand over his face. His head is throbbing, waves of pain coursing through his prefrontal cortex often enough that he has to close his eyes again. He says, “I feel like I’m dying.”

“How is that different from any other Saturday?” Pidge teases.

Keith grunts, acknowledging the statement. They’re quiet for a moment, allowing Keith a few seconds to try waking himself up more. When the throbbing in his head settles, he asks, “So is there a point to you waking me up at –“ He squints his eyes open and brings his phone away from his ear to check the time. When he sees the time, he heaves a sigh and brings the phone back to his ear. “ – 9:30 AM?”

He hears the laugh in Pidge’s voice as she says, “You know, 9:30 is a relatively normal time for most people to wake up. It’s even late for some.”

“Good for fucking them, then,” Keith mutters harshly, jamming the knuckle of his free hand into the corner of his eye, attempting to rub the sleep away.

“Anyway,” Pidge says. “Just wanted to make sure you’re in one piece, and that you kept yourself pure last night. Since you answered your phone, I’m assuming you did.”

Keith’s eyes squint open again, his eyebrows crinkling together. “What the fuck is that –“

He’s cut off with a laugh, then a gentle _click_ as Pidge hangs up.

Keith pulls his phone away from his ear and holds it just in front of his face, as if willing it to ring again so Pidge can explain what, exactly, she means by “keeping himself pure.” He doesn’t remember much about last night, apparently. He lays there for a moment, attempting to take in his surroundings, trying his best to remember what may have happened.

The first thing he notices is that he is the only one in the room, which means that if something _did_ happen, the person didn’t stick around after – which, if he’s being honest, wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. He sits up to look around and realizes immediately that he’s shirtless. He shudders and catches the sheet as it slides down his bare chest, pulling it back up his body to ensure a small bit of warmth. He moves his eyes slowly around the room, trying to see any form of tampering. Everything seems normal until –

Wait. His phone had been plugged in this morning. If Keith is notorious for anything, it’s being unreachable the day after a party. When he’s drunk, day-to-day life routines don’t matter – including plugging his phone in to charge. Normally, the morning after a party, his phone lays discarded somewhere in his bed, completely dead or barely living.  This time, though, it had been plugged in, on his nightstand.

He moves his eyes over to the nightstand by his bed. He had left it cluttered with empty bottles – water and beer alike – and random scripts of writing. Now, though, all of the bottles were cleared off except for one full bottle of water, accompanied by two advils. His writings were organized on the corner of the stand, stacked neatly and far enough away from everything that they wouldn’t accidentally get knocked over. Sitting next to his writings is a note, scribbled in an unfamiliar handwriting.

Good morning. Breakfast? xx

Keith picks up the note, grazing his eyes over the lettering, trying to decipher its meaning as if he would a foreign language. Who the fuck would take time out of their day (or night) to actually coddle him? Not only had he been brought to bed last night, but he had been _cared_ for.

He tries to ignore how that makes him feel. He fails.

He feels a blush creep up his neck, onto his cheeks. The only person that had actually ever cared over him like this was Pidge, and then only because of family obligation. Keith, before he can stop himself, finds his mouth cracking into a smile. He can’t help it. Being cared for feels… nice. But who –

Images of the night before flash through his mind.

_Waiting outside of Garrison’s Java, angry because Shiro is late and Keith feels abandoned…again._

_Pidge, getting angry at Keith because he hadn’t realized who Shiro was._

_Keith, getting overly-drunk and hanging on Shiro all night._

_Shiro, bringing Keith home at Keith’s request and helping him to bed._

_Keith, momentarily forgetting that he was with someone unfamiliar and taking his shirt off, but Shiro reassuring him that it’s okay – that he’s beautiful._

Keith’s face turns a deeper shade of red and he groans, mortified. How could he have allowed himself to get that drunk last night? _Why?_

He takes a few moments to compose himself, heart hammering in his chest. He’s suddenly nervous, knowing that Shiro had had to take care of him. It’s nice to be cared for, but on a first date?

_Embarrassing._

Once he’s finally collected himself and steadied his breathing as much as he can, he leans over his bed and grabs a shirt from the floor. It’s the shirt he had worn last night and, after a quick sniff test, he pulls it over his head. He runs his fingers back through his hair, trying to get it out of his face and at least semi-organized, before finally standing to pad out to the living room.

He finds Shiro asleep on the couch, bent at an awkward angle to accommodate his massive frame on the narrow couch. Keith takes a moment to admire the sight. Shiro apparently has no reservations about his body (a fact that Keith is more than happy to accept) because he’s in nothing but his briefs, a blanket hanging loosely around his waist to preserve _some_ modesty. Keith moves his eyes slowly from Shiro’s face to his chest, down to his torso and legs. He obviously works out. His shoulders and chest are massive, but his body narrows to a hard line around his waist. Keith lets his eyes linger at the trail of hair starting at Shiro’s naval and disappearing under the waistband of his briefs before drifting his eyes down to Shiro’s legs. His thighs are thick, hard with muscle. Keith briefly wonders how it’d feel to settle himself between those thighs, but decides to save that thought for another time. Aside from the hard muscle, Keith notices that every part of Shiro’s body is covered in scars.

Even relaxed, he looks like he could easily kick someone’s ass.

Keith, feeling guilty for Shiro having to care for him the night before, decides to let the man sleep. He turns away from the couch and heads into the kitchen, turning immediately to the coffee pot. His head is still throbbing and, if he’s honest with himself, he needs to drink water – but why drink water when you can dehydrate yourself more and get a buzz with caffeine, right?

_Whatever helps me feel alive._

As the coffee starts to brew, he quietly pads his way back to his bedroom to retrieve the water bottle and advil he had forgotten. He pops the cap as he walks back to the kitchen and takes the pills just as he rounds the corner back into the kitchen. Once he’s drank at least half the bottle to try to help combat his headache, he takes a seat at the dining room table. He unlocks his phone and scrolls aimlessly through social media for a few moments. As he does, he feels his head start to droop, further and further, until he’s finally cheek-down on the table, looking sideways on his phone as he scrolls. Even when his coffee maker beeps that the coffee is done, he continues laying down, the coolness of the table helping ease his headache.

Just as Keith is about to give up and finally get coffee, he hears a grunt from the living room, then a long moan as Shiro stretches on the couch. Seconds later, he hears footsteps padding across the carpet, heading in his direction. He spares a glance up when he hears the steps meet tile and sees Shiro walking towards him, still in nothing but his briefs, still breath-takingly beautiful.

_This is so not fair._

Shiro pulls the chair catty-corner from Keith away from the table and sits down, immediately crossing his arms over the table and laying his head down. He doesn’t say anything at first and Keith panics, trying to think of something to say through the fog in his brain. Before he can say something, though, Shiro speaks, sleep still thick in his voice.

 “Coffee.”

Keith angles his head towards Shiro, raising an eyebrow. “Uhh – yeah. Did you want some?”

The only answer he gets is a simple nod. Keith grins, biting off a laugh as he gets up from the table and grabs two mugs out of the cabinet. He fills them both nearly full and asks, “Do you take cream or sugar?”

Shiro groans and mutters back, “Surprise me.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but walks back to the table with both mugs of black coffee. He sets one in front of Shiro and says, “Pidge only drinks flavored coffee. This one’s caramel, so it’s sweeter than usual. If you don’t like it black, I can grab some cream and sugar for you.”

Shiro sits up, accepting the coffee and cradling it in his hands like he would something precious. Keith takes his position in his seat again and eyes Shiro as he takes a sip of his coffee. He makes a face at first, but then takes another sip and seems to settle into the flavor. Shiro, aware of Keith’s gaze, says, “It’s good.”

Keith relaxes, offering a nervous smile. Shiro, unlike any time Keith has ever seen him, is quiet, reserved. Keith wonders briefly if something is wrong and is about to ask, until Shiro cuts him off. “Sorry.. I’m not a morning person. Give me about twenty minutes and this cup of coffee, and I should be a little less of a zombie.”

_Apparently, he’s a mind-reader, too. Great._

Keith chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. He watches as Shiro picks up his free hand and runs it over his face, trying to wake himself up. Keith takes another sip of coffee, trying to stall for time and work up the courage for his next statement. It takes about four more sips of coffee before he finally says, “Thank you… for taking care of me last night. That… wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry you had to.”

Shiro shrugs, offering Keith a quick smirk. “I didn’t mind. Besides, who wouldn’t love having a hot guy hanging on them all night?”

Keith’s heart stutters and he chokes on the coffee he’s about to drink. He feels his face flame, worsened when he hears Shiro laugh. He moves narrowed eyes to the perpetrator of his misfortune and says, “I’m glad my choking is funny to you.”

Shiro tries to tame his smile, but fails – slight chuckles still escaping past perfect lips. “Okay, it’s not, really. But seeing you flustered is… cute. You don’t seem like someone that gets easily flustered.”

Keith sighs, picking up his coffee and bringing it to his lips, but he doesn’t drink it. “I’m usually not. But I’m not used to someone… caring for me. For one. And two, it’s 10 AM, I have a headache, and I haven’t even finished my coffee. It should be illegal to hit on someone before, like, noon.”

Shiro laughs again and Keith feels his heart flutter. He finally tilts his cup back, taking a drink and setting the cup back down. He glances over at Shiro and says, “So… on your note, you mentioned breakfast? I don’t really have anything here, but there’s a place close by, if you want to go. It’s the perfect hangover spot.”

Shiro opens his mouth to say something, but at that precise moment, Keith hears his stomach growl. Both men glance down at Shiro’s stomach and Shiro glances back up, his cheeks red. He offers a shy smile and says, “Well, I guess that answers your question.”

Keith’s eyes fixate on Shiro’s smile, the blush gently creeping across Shiro’s face. He feels his heart pick up again.

_Oh. Oh no._

“A-Alright,” Keith says. He takes another drink from his coffee. He’s only about half-done, but he figures he shouldn’t make Shiro wait. He gets up from the table, pouring the remaining coffee into the sink and turning off the coffee pot. He turns back to Shiro and says, “I need to at least brush my teeth before I leave. Do you need to do anything? You can shower, if you want.”

Shiro shakes his head, tilting it back as he somehow finishes off the rest of his coffee. He says, “I just need to brush my teeth, too. Didn’t bring anything extra to change into for a shower. Any chance you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Yeah, come on.”

Keith turns and heads towards the bathroom. Behind him, he hears Shiro get out of his chair and set his mug in the sink before following behind Keith to the bathroom. When Keith sets about digging through a couple drawers under the sink, looking for an extra toothbrush, Shiro makes himself comfortable by leaning against the doorway. He waits patiently until Keith finds the extra toothbrush, then says, “Thanks. I’ll go get dressed while you brush your teeth. Let me know when you’re finished.”

“Alright.”

With that, Shiro turns away from the bathroom and heads back to the living room. Keith sets about getting ready, running a quick hair brush through his hair to try to fix it, but giving up (as usual) and throwing it back in a messy bun. He brushes his teeth quickly, then heads out to the living room. He finds Shiro sitting on the couch in his clothes from yesterday – a dark-red t-shirt and dark jeans. He glances up when Keith walks in and offers a smile. “Finished?”

“Yeah, sorry it took me a bit. Hair doesn’t know how to keep itself in place.”

Shiro shrugs, instinctively turning his eyes to Keith’s hair to observe his statement. He says, “It looks fine. I’d never guess you were hungover.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but jams a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. “Yeah, yeah. I’m hungry. Go get ready.”

“Yes, sir,” Shiro says, putting his hands in the air in mock-surrender and standing to head to the bathroom. Keith heads back into the kitchen to retrieve his phone and stick it in his back pocket. The jeans are wrinkled from sleeping in them, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He knows the people at the diner they’re going to and he’s sure they’ve seen him in a worse state.

He decides to wash the mugs as he waits and, just as he’s finishing up the last one, Shiro enters the kitchen. As Keith is about to set the mug on the drying rack, Shiro comes up behind him and places a gentle hand on the small of his back. Keith tenses, surprised by the touch, and starts to turn his head toward Shiro, only to feel Shiro’s lips press against his temple. Keith stays frozen, his heart hammering in his chest. He’s not exactly a dating person, so he doesn’t know the exact protocol for _the morning after_. Not that this is necessarily a morning after, per say, but it is. Isn’t it? He doesn’t know. Is he supposed to turn and kiss Shiro? Thank him for the kiss? He’s already thanked him for taking care of him, so he’s not sure if he should bring that up again.

Before he can gather his thoughts, the hand on the small of his back disappears and Shiro is stepping to stand next to him. He grabs the cup from Keith’s hand and grabs a drying towel, beginning to dry the mug. He glances over at Keith and smiles. Keith’s heart stills and he says, “What was that for?”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “What was what for?”

“The – the kiss. You kissed me. What was that for?”

Shiro pauses in drying the mug and stares at Keith, his eyes moving back and forth between one of Keith’s eyes and the other, as if he’s trying to find something there. He says, “I just… wanted to? I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I won’t do it again if it did.”

“N-No,” Keith says, moving his eyes down to the sink. He closes his eyes, starting to feel stupid. He just… isn’t _used_ to this. “I haven’t really… dated anyone before. I don’t.. I’m not sure how this is supposed to go? I’m.. nervous, is all. I guess.”

Shiro returns to drying the mug and says, “You don’t have to be nervous with me, Keith. You just looked cute, so I wanted to kiss you. But if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable, I won’t do it again until you tell me to.”

Keith thinks about it. He hadn’t been uncomfortable, really. Just startled. And he doesn’t really understand why anyone would want to kiss him in the first place. Usually, if anyone did, they were plastered or high as a kite and the kiss was hungry, lustful. He had never been kissed so… tenderly before.

It scares him, honestly.

But what’s the point of trying to be with someone if you aren’t a little scared?

“Kiss me,” Keith says, before he can stop himself. He looks over at Shiro, who stops in the middle of putting the mug away and turns night-black eyes to Keith. He closes the door to the cabinet and turns his full attention to Keith, putting the drying towel back on the counter.

He asks, “You’re sure?”

Keith, unable to find his words, simply nods. Shiro’s eyes drop from his, down to his lips. Keith licks his lips nervously and sees a spark of heat flare in Shiro’s eyes, sees the hitch in Shiro’s breath when the moisture gathers on Keith’s lips. Slowly, Shiro leans forward, but Keith is frozen. He watches up until the last second, when Shiro’s lips touch his.

The kiss lights something in Keith – something that has been sitting, dead and buried, for years. The flame moves slowly, starting in the depths of his very soul, and working its way languidly through the blood in his veins. He closes his eyes, taking a step forward and pressing their bodies closer together. The fire ignites, coursing its way through his system, causing his arms to lift and wrap around Shiro’s neck. Shiro follows suit, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and bringing him closer. Keith parts his lips, capturing Shiro’s top lip between his own. When they open their mouths again, Keith feels Shiro’s breath against the moisture on his lips and he shudders, the fire building into a full-on blaze through his body.

Keith moves again and, when he does, Shiro tightens his grip around his waist. He lifts Keith and turns, placing Keith on the counter and leaning into him. Keith moves forward, pressing himself against Shiro, wrapping his legs around Shiro’s waist and clinging to him like he’s afraid that if he lets go, Shiro will disappear. His breathing begins to pick up and he sighs, adjusting the kiss so he captures Shiro’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently. Shiro groans, his grip on Keith’s back tightening. He digs his fingers into Keith’s back and Keith lets out a moan. Without a second thought, he grinds forward, and feels a shudder grow through his body at Shiro’s responding gasp.

Whatever control Shiro had been trying to exhibit before goes out the window. He crushes their lips together and brings his hands to Keith’s waist, gripping tightly as he grinds forward again. Keith can already feel him, hard behind his jeans, and suddenly he wants more. _More, more, more -_

“Seriously, it’s hardly past ten and _this_ is what I’m gonna come home to? You could warn a girl.”

Both men tense and break away from each other, turning their gazes to the entrance to the kitchen. Pidge stands there, still in her clothes from last night, her hair an unkempt mess atop her head. Her arms are crossed and her look is scolding. She raises an eyebrow, challenging Keith. He narrows his eyes. “Well if that _girl_ would have told me she was on her way home, I would have made sure to take this elsewhere.”

Pidge throws her arms up, exasperated. She adjusts her glasses, pushing them up her nose, before pointing at Keith. “I shouldn’t have to worry about walking into _my own kitchen._ We eat in here!”

Keith groans and Shiro takes a step back, allowing him room to push himself off the counter. He says, “Fine, fine. Whatever. We were going to breakfast, anyway. Have you eaten yet?”

“That depends on where you’re going, and if I’m going to have to witness you two swapping saliva again.”

Keith snorts. “You never know with me. May have to just let him take me in the middle of Corner Café.”

Pidge scrunches her face and turns accusing eyes to Shiro, who holds his hands up in mock-surrender for the second time this morning. She sighs, shaking her head, but decides to drop the subject. “I’ll go. Let me go grab my wallet. I didn’t take it with me last night.”

With that, she turns and heads out of the kitchen. Awkward silence stretches between the men left behind. Finally, Keith sighs and says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about the fact she’d be on her way home.”

Shiro clears his throat and says, “It’s alright. I’m more sorry for… getting carried away.”

Keith moves violet eyes to Shiro. He eyes him, debating if he should say what he’s thinking. He decides he should. If they’re going to date, Shiro should at least probably know that about him.

“Don’t be sorry. Sex is what I’m used to, so it’s fine.”

Shiro is quiet for a moment, studying Keith’s face. He asks, “Sex is something you do a lot of?”

Before he can answer, Pidge comes back around the corner and says, “Keith not having a hook-up after a party is rarer than rain around these parts.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow and Keith coughs, his face darkening. “Well… I would have put it a little more lightly but.. yeah. I’ve been around.”

Pidge snorts. “Bit of an understatement.”

Keith turns, narrowing his eyes. “Can we maybe not keep talking about this?”

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

Keith feels his temper spike. He had needed Shiro to know, and was going to have the talk with him later. But he didn’t need to have it _now,_ in front of Pidge, of all people. “That doesn’t mean I was going to go into detail! He was just being kind to me, and I wanted him to know that it’s not something I’m used to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Sorry, Shiro,” Pidge says with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, breakfast. Let’s go.”

She turns out of the kitchen without another word. Keith takes a few steadying breaths, trying to calm his temper, then stalks behind her. Shiro follows behind him.

They’re quiet on the walk to the diner. It’s down the road from Keith and Pidge’s apartment and only takes about ten minutes to walk to.  The air outside is finally starting to chill, but the sun is out, making the chill mostly bearable, even without a jacket. As they walk, Pidge walks ahead and Shiro falls in line next to Keith, walking close enough that their arms brush every few steps. Keith silently wonders if his revelation has scared Shiro away, but with every brush of skin on skin, he feels himself hope.

When they enter the diner, Shay greets them with a gentle smile and wave. Pidge waves back and turns in the direction of their usual booth – tucked up on the far side of the diner, against the window. Pidge slides in the side of the booth facing the open-windowed side of the diner and Keith slides in the seat opposite her, Shiro following him in. Keith moves as far into the booth as he can to allow Shiro room to sit comfortably. Once they’re settled, Shay comes over and takes their drink order. Her brown hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, loose strands of it hanging down in her face as she looks down to write their drink order on her notepad. She looks like she’s been through hell and back this morning, but the smile on her face tells Keith that she wasn’t letting whatever was going on get to her.

He’s always admired that about Shay.

When they’re done ordering their drinks, Shay walks away to give Shiro a moment to figure out what he wants. Keith leans forward, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin heavily in the palm of his hand. He moves bored eyes to Pidge and says, “So did you stay over at Lance and Hunk’s last night?”

Pidge nods. “Yeah. I got more drunk than I had originally planned to, so I couldn’t drive home. I ended up falling asleep on the couch before the party even ended, anyway.”

Keith snorts, moving his eyes to look out the window. “At least you didn’t need carried home like I did.”

“I mean, if I would have wanted to go home, I probably would have needed carrying. Thank god Shiro seems like he’s strong enough to carry us both.”

Keith turns his eyes to Shiro, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Shiro, without looking up from his menu, says, “I could carry two of both of you before it started becoming a problem.”

An image of Shiro working out flashes through Keith’s mind – sweaty, pumping a 250-pound bar over his chest. He feels his blood start rushing a little quicker at the thought and he turns his eyes away, trying to gather his thoughts. Thankfully, he has Pidge there to help him. “No way! Me, I understand. I’m tiny and barely over 100 pounds. Keith, though, he’s a lot heavier than he looks. He may be scrawny, but he’s scrawny muscle. He weighs _at least_ 160.”

“167, to be exact,” Keith says, drumming his fingers against his jaw and turning an amused expression to Shiro.

Shiro turns the corners of his mouth down, but nods, appreciative. He says, “I guess I should have guessed that. You were a little heavier than I thought you’d be when I picked you up earlier.”

Keith narrows his eyes and gives Shiro a playful shove just as Shay walks back over, setting down Keith’s coffee, Shiro’s water, and Pidge’s chocolate milk. She turns her attention to Shiro and says, “I know what Keith and Katie want. But I don’t know what you want. So, what can I get you?”

Shiro smiles and points to his order. Shay nods, then takes his menu and goes to place the order. They all fall into a comfortable silence as they think of something to say. Pidge is the first to think of something and she starts by clearing her throat, drawing both men’s attention to her. She’s fidgeting with the wrapper to her straw, staring at it as if it holds the answer to what she’s about to ask. Once she finally musters up the courage, she says, “So, Shiro… Can I – can I ask you something?”

Keith looks over to see Shiro’s face soften. He says, “Anything, Pidge.”

She sighs, trying to muster herself up again. She swallows whatever fear she’s feeling and asks, “Do you know what happened? To my dad and brother, that is. Why are you back, but they’re not?”

When she’s finished speaking, she looks up to meet Shiro’s gaze. Shiro studies her face for a moment then sighs, looking away, into the diner. Without looking at her, he says, “Honestly, Pidge, I don’t remember. It’s public information that I was working with the Galra, and got in pretty deep. They… did something. To get rid of my memories. All I remember is all three of us getting found out, but after that? I don’t remember anything. I don’t even remember how I escaped, really. I just know one day, I woke up in the hospital with barely an idea of who I even was. I had to be shown files to even remember my name. So, I’m sorry, but –“ He turns to Pidge, then, his eyes sad, guilty. “- I have no idea what happened to your father or brother.”

Pidge nods, her eyes filling with tears. Keith feels his expression soften. He wants to go around the table and comfort Pidge, but he knows she wouldn’t want that. Instead, he says, “Hey. That doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world. We’ll find them, okay? I don’t know who – or what – the Galra are. But I’d take down every single one if it meant finding Dad and Matt.”

Pidge glances up at Keith, a weak smile on her face. She sniffs and looks away, wiping at her eyes, trying to compose herself. Shiro turns to Keith, trying to change the subject, and asks, “Dad? You’re… related to the Holts?”

Keith nods, a smile forming on his face. “I am. I was a foster kid, and they were my last family. Took me in when I was just turning sixteen and adopted me right before I turned seventeen to make sure I was an official Holt before adulthood.”

“God, what were my parents thinking,” Pidge teases softly, attempting a smile.

Keith narrows his eyes. “You know you love me.”

“If I _have to,_ I guess.”

Shiro laughs and takes a drink of his water before saying, “It’s almost like you’re related by blood with the way you two antagonize each other.”

“Might as well be,” Pidge says with a shrug.

Keith smiles at her, then, his heart soaring. After his dad died and he had to be put into foster care, all he had ever wanted growing up was a family. He had given the Holts trouble when he had first started living with them – just as he had any other family he had lived with. But they had loved him through it, anyway. Loved him through his rebellions, his outbursts, his pain as he tried to find his place in the world. He would never forget that, for as long as he lived, what the Holts did for him.

“Anyway,” Pidge says, finally inhaling one final deep breath to compose herself entirely. “How is your case going? Are you any closer to disbanding the Galra?”

Shiro shrugs and is about to answer when Shay comes over with their food. He waits while she disperses the food to its appropriate spots – waffle with whipped cream for Pidge, curry omelet for Keith, and over-medium eggs with a side of sausage and toast for Shiro – before finally answering Pidge’s question. “Honestly? That’s not even really our goal here. We’re mainly investigating their expansion into this area. They used to be a strictly city-only gang, but recently have branched out to this area and this area only. We have no clue why.”

Pidge scrunches her eyebrows together, obviously trying to think of a reason herself. “Are they looking for something?”

Shiro shrugs and waits until he finishes a bite of eggs before saying, “We’re assuming. We just have no leads as to what, or who. We’re hoping it’s not a person because otherwise they’re in danger, and we have no way of stopping that danger. But… well, unfortunately, we’re not able to find anything.”

“How do you even go about looking for something like that?” Keith asks, capping the hot sauce he had just spread over his omelet and setting it aside.

“Honestly, that’s what we’re trying to figure out. The Holts and I… that’s what we originally went undercover for. We were to integrate into their ranks and see if we could find anything out. And, well.. we see how that worked out. So now we’re at a loss.”

They fall into a silence after Shiro finishes speaking, all of them lost in thought. Pidge is obviously in thinking-mode, trying to sort through what she knew of Shiro’s case. Keith, however, is lost when it comes to any of that, and opts to just pick at his omelet. Finally, Shiro breaks the silence and asks, “So, what do you do for work, Pidge?”

Pidge’s eyes widen, surprised at being pulled out of her thoughts. She stumbles for a moment as she answers, “I – uhh. What do I do again? Oh – wait. Yeah. I work at the local animal shelter.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Most days. There are some days that are hard – mainly if they bring in an animal that’s been alone for too long and we have to work on its rehabilitation. But that’s only for a couple days every two or three weeks. Everyone around here is pretty good at keeping their animals in their house.”

“That’s good. I’ve always wanted a dog.”

Pidge snorts, cutting into her waffle and shoving a giant bite in her mouth. Talking around the food, she says, “’Ant one? We ‘ave plenty.”

Shiro shakes his head. “Unfortunately, my landlord forbids it. So no dogs for me.”

Keith groans. “Same here. You should see how bad she freaks any time Pidge has to temporarily store an animal at the apartment. It’s only ever for a night and because the animal’s kennel is getting a deep-clean, but it doesn’t even matter. The lady _freaks._ ”

“I can’t wait to move into a house of my own,” Pidge says. “I want to take Chester home so bad.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow but before he can ask, Keith says, “Her cat. She was the one that found him, and he imprinted on her. So he became the ‘shelter cat’ until she can take him home. People have asked to adopt him, but her coworkers know better.”

“He’s _mine,_ ” Pidge says, a challenge in her voice. She takes her phone out, unlocking it quickly and turning it so Shiro can see it. “This is him.”

On her screen, a fat orange cat lays lazily on Pidge’s desk at work. She has her hand on her computer mouse and Chester sleeps soundly, his forehead against the side of her hand and his paw resting lightly on the back of her hand. Pidge had sent the picture to Keith a few weeks ago with the caption, “I’M CRYING.”

He hopes he can find a love like what Pidge has for Chester one day.

“He’s cute,” Shiro offers, and Pidge beams.

“Did you know Keith wrote a poem about him for me once?”

Keith sputters, nearly choking on the food he had just shoved in his mouth. He narrows his eyes at Pidge, who is laughing hysterically at his reaction. Shiro has an amused smile on his face as he turns to Keith and says, “I did not. Was it good?”

“Pidge, don’t –“

“I cried. It was so cute.”

Shiro chuckles and says, “I knew you were a writer, Keith, but I didn’t realize you wrote poetry.”

“I don’t,” Keith grumbles. “If I do, it’s because I’m plastered and think I have that particular talent. But I don’t. My poems are…cringey, to say the least.”

“They are not!” Pidge exclaims. “Give yourself more credit, Keith! You’ve written me three poems and you know I have them all framed to read over and over again. I love your writing.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You’re sort of obligated to, as my sister.”

“As your sister, I’m obligated to tell you when you suck. And you know I would. You just get shy about your writing, for some reason.”

“I’d love to read some of it some time,” Shiro says. “If it’s okay with you, that is.”

Keith groans again and says, “Maybe next time I get plastered and forget that I should be embarrassed by it.”

“In other words, next weekend,” Pidge teases.

Keith narrows his eyes at her, but says nothing.

The rest of the meal passes in relative silence. They talk more about the different animals at the Garrison’s shelter, and talk more in-detail about Keith’s writing. What he’s currently working on, where he hopes it goes, how long he’s been writing. When they finish their meal, Shiro pays for all of them (despite Keith and Pidge’s protests) and they head back to Pidge and Keith’s apartment. It’s gotten warmer since earlier in the morning, so the gentle breeze that tickles Keith’s skin doesn’t make him shiver as it had earlier.

When they reach the apartment, Shiro stops at his car. Keith hesitates, glancing at Pidge, but she waves him off. “I’ll see you inside. Bye, Shiro!”

Shiro waves his goodbye and watches as Pidge walks inside. Keith turns to Shiro and waits for… something. He’s still not sure what, exactly, he’s supposed to do in “dating” situations. Shiro fills in the silence for him, though, and says, “I have something to go to tonight. It’s… work related, but I don’t really want to go to it alone. If you didn’t have plans, would you want to come?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t have plans. I’ll go if you want me there.”

Shiro smiles, reaching forward to wrap his fingers gently around Keith’s wrist. Keith feels his heartbeat pick up and he swallows down his nerves as Shiro says, “I would love to have you there.”

Keith nods and is about to start heading back to the apartment when Shiro tugs him to his chest. He wraps his arms around Keith, swallowing Keith’s narrow frame in a hug. Keith stands there for a moment, stunned, but eventually returns the gesture – burying his face into Shiro’s chest and inhaling. He smells like soap, despite not having taken a shower this morning, and Keith sighs, losing himself in Shiro’s embrace. He’s been alone for so long, he didn’t realize how long he had needed… this.

_Whatever_ this _is._

“Well, I’m going to get going,” Shiro says, releasing Keith and taking a step back towards his car. “Pick you up around 8?”

Keith nods, shoving his hands in his front pockets as he walks backwards towards his apartment. “Yeah. Alright. See you then. Don’t be late this time.”

He says the words teasingly, but Shiro’s face still hardens. Not in anger, but something else Keith can’t quite put his finger on. He says, “I promise I won’t be late, ever again.”

Determination. That’s what it is. He’s angry at himself, Keith realizes. Keith kicks himself for getting so upset yesterday, but before he can stop Shiro and tell him so, Shiro is already climbing into his car. Keith watches him go before finally turning back inside and heading up to his apartment.

When he walks inside, Pidge has already made herself comfortable on the couch, phone in hand as she scrolls through social media. When she hears him enter, she asks, “So? How was last night?”

Keith kicks off his shoes before heading into the apartment and flopping on the couch next to her. He says, “Honestly don’t remember last night at all. There were bits and pieces, but it took me a solid ten minutes this morning before I remembered everything.” As he’s talking, he leans forward to grab his cigarettes off the table. He takes one out of the pack, puts the filter between his lips, and retrieves the lighter. As he holds the lighter to the end of it to light it, he says, “I took my shirt off in front of him.”

He glances over to see Pidge hesitate in her scrolling. He inhales, waiting for her to answer. When he breathes out, she resumes her scrolling and says, “Oh? And? What did he say?”

Keith shrugs, grabbing the cigarette between his index and middle finger and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He runs his free hand through his hair and says, “Nothing. I started panicking, obviously, because I hadn’t had the chance to tell him. I was going to tell him this morning, when I was sober and could remember his reaction. But I was so drunk last night, and I never sleep with a shirt on, and he was taking care of me so I just – did it. And he just told me I was beautiful, and that’s it.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much then, Keith. If the fact that you’re a trans man bothers him then one, he doesn’t deserve you. And two, he’s pretty good at faking otherwise. He didn’t seem to think about it this morning when he had you pinned on the kitchen counter.”

Keith feels his face darken and he glances her way again. “Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. If I had known you were on your way home, I wouldn’t have encouraged him.”

Pidge snorts. “Yeah right. You have a thing for the potential at being caught. I can’t count the number of times I’ve walked in on you with someone. It’s gross.”

Keith snorts, taking another drag from his cigarette. He leans back, staring at the ceiling as he exhales. They’re quiet for a while, Keith taking a couple more drags from his cigarette before he says, “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

As soon as he says it, Pidge puts her phone down on the couch next to her and stands to turn on their Wii. Keith sits up and flicks off the ashes of his cigarette into the ash tray, then accepts the controller Pidge offers him. She takes her seat next to him again and says, “If I win, you have to write another poem for Chester.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Get me drunk first and I’ll write whatever poem you want.”

Pidge laughs as she brings up the game. As soon as the game starts, they both fall into their “zone.” They play for hours, getting in several mock-fights. At some point, Pidge ends up in Keith’s lap, trying to block him from seeing the screen on his third consecutive win in a row. He tosses her off and wins anyway, but then loses the next five games. Eventually, the score hits 30 – 26 in Pidge’s favor and Keith accepts his defeat. Pidge throws her arms in the air, yelling out her victory. Keith rolls his eyes and gives her a gentle shove, bringing down her gloating. Pidge laughs and glances at the time. “Anyway, I have the late shift today, so I’m going to take a nap.”

“Alright. ‘Night, Pidge.”

Pidge waves him off and turns off the Wii as she passes, then heads to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind herself.  With five hours left before Shiro is going to pick him up, Keith decides to head to his room and try to write. He’s been stuck at a certain part for the past week, but decides he’ll just write around the part and come back to it later. He retrieves his notebook from his dresser and sits on his bed, leaning back against his headboard as he starts to write a new scene.

It doesn’t take him long to get lost in his writing. He’s not even paying attention to how much he’s written, or how late it’s gotten, until he looks up and realizes the sun is almost entirely set outside. He starts, snatching his phone from his bed to look at the time. He had wanted to shower and get his hair to actually look decent before he went out tonight, but it’s almost 7, and he’s sure he had heard Pidge get up to start getting ready for her shift at 9. He decides to chance it, anyway, and rushes out of his room to the bathroom. Just as he’s about to knock, the door opens, and Pidge steps out, hair wet and dripping onto her clothes. Keith breathes a sigh of relief and says, “Can I shower or do you still need in here?”

Pidge rolls her eyes and steps out of the bathroom. “I’ll let you get ready for your date. I woke up early, anyway. Take your time.”

Keith’s so relieved he could kiss her. He rushes back to his room, grabbing a clean pair of black jeans and a red v-neck shirt, then heads back to the bathroom to start his shower. He scrolls through the music on his phone, settling on listening to Flogging Molly as he gets ready.

It doesn’t take him long to shower and only takes him about twenty minutes to get dressed and dry his hair. He heads back to his room, calling to Pidge that the bathroom is open again, then heads to his bed to slip into his black combat boots. Once they’re tied securely around his ankles, he grabs the black beanie from yesterday and slips it on, and finds his black Dead Kennedys hanging on the hook behind the door. He puts it on, leaving the zipper open, then glances at the time. _7:54._ Late enough that Shiro should be there by the time he makes it downstairs.

“I’m leaving!” Keith shouts, tucking his phone in his back pocket as he walks towards the front door. He stops at the living room table to grab his wallet, cigarettes and lighter, and apartment keys. As he walks towards the door again, he hears Pidge shout, “Be safe!”

He doesn’t respond as he walks out the front door, stopping to lock it behind himself. He heads down the stairs quick enough that he briefly imagines missing a stair and falling flat on his ass, but he manages to make it down the flight of stairs without injury. He walks through the main door to his apartment building just as Shiro’s car pulls up to the curb. Keith feels himself smile as he walks over and opens the door, climbing inside.

“You made it,” he teases.

“With two minutes to spare,” Shiro says, nodding to his dashboard clock.

Keith laughs and closes the door. Once his seatbelt is on (a rule in Shiro’s car, apparently), Shiro pulls away from the curb and starts driving towards downtown. Keith stretches his legs out in front of himself, crossing his ankles before asking, “So where are we heading?”

“Downtown. It’s a party, but there’s someone there I have to meet for work. I may have to leave you alone for a few minutes while I talk to him, so I apologize ahead of time.”

Keith shrugs. “If this is something work-related, is it dangerous?”

Keith said it to be teasing, but Shiro is silent – long enough that Keith’s teasing smile disappears and he turns his eyes to Shiro. Shiro’s mouth is pressed into a hard line and he says, “It could be. But I promise if something happens, I’ll protect you.”

Keith snorts. “I don’t need protection. Just watch yourself, big guy. I’m tougher than I look.”

It’s Shiro’s turn to huff a laugh. He glances in Keith’s direction and says, “I’ve always loved me a man that can kick my ass.”

Keith scoffs. “Kick your ass? Have you looked at yourself lately? You could take on three of me before you would even need to start worrying about losing.”

“I may be big, but I’m slow. I know my limitations. You’re small, and do a lot of running, so you’re quick and your stamina’s high. You’d outlast me by a long shot.”

Keith, stunned at Shiro’s observation, can’t think of anything to say. Instead, he changes the subject, “Who do you have to meet tonight?”

Shiro moves his eyes to Keith as he pulls up to a red light. He’s quiet until the light turns green, then moves his eyes back to the road as he says, “It’s supposed to be classified, but I guess you should know. He’s a Galra member, but he’s in a side branch of the gang that actually opposes the main branch’s influence. They’re slowly making contact with us, trying to work with us to take down the Galra. This is the first time any of us have actually been able to meet face to face.”

Keith nods, trying to wrap his head around the coming situation. “Is this – is this a Galra party, then? That we’re going to?”

Shiro shakes his head. “Oh, no. I would never show my face around the main branch of the gang. I’m sure most of them recognize me. The only people here should be people in the Blades – the side branch of the Galra. However, it is possible that someone from the main branch will show up, so we have to be careful.”

Keith swallows, suddenly nervous, even though he knows that if it really came down to it, he’d be able to defend himself. But gangs usually meant weapons, and he didn’t have a weapon on him.

He’s _really_ hoping it doesn’t come to that.

“If you want me to take you back home, I can,” Shiro says softly.

Keith turns his attention back to Shiro. Shiro is staring straight ahead at the road, but there’s a nervousness to his features that Keith hasn’t seen yet. Keith doesn’t quite know the extent of the situation he’s heading into, but he can tell there’s something about it that really bothers Shiro. So, shoving his own nerves to the back of his mind, he says, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m sure it’ll be fine. If not, you owe me a beer.”

Shiro laughs. “Babe, I’ll buy you all the beer you want after this.”

_Babe._

Keith feels his heart flutter and he smiles, looking away from Shiro and putting his palm over his mouth to cover his grin. He stares pointedly out the window, trying his best to calm the excitement threatening to burst through his chest. Keith deals with sex better than he deals with this emotional bullshit coursing through his veins.

Man, having a crush is wild.

They fall into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip. It takes another twenty minutes to drive to the other end of town. Shiro pulls into a parking spot near one of the more popular local bars, _Strikers._ It’s mainly a place for delinquents and biker gang members to hang out. In other words, a perfect spot for the Galra to meet.

“Ready?” Shiro asks, turning to Keith as he kills the ignition and sticks his keys in his jacket pocket.

Keith nods, and they both exit the vehicle. Keith comes around the front and lets Shiro take the lead, following closely behind him. Shiro glances back every now and then to make sure Keith is still behind him, but otherwise keeps pushing his way through the crowd gathered outside of the bar. Once inside, the music floods Keith’s ears. It’s fast-paced and grunge, but Keith doesn’t recognize it. He notices other people around the bar seem to be yelling along to it, though.

Shiro leads him to the side of the bar and manages to wedge a place between two couples so that he and Keith can stand close. He puts his hand on Keith’s elbow, nudging him a little closer, and talks loud enough for Keith to hear him over the music. “Do you want anything to drink?”

Keith shrugs, and mimics Shiro’s statement from earlier that morning. “Surprise me.”

Shiro smirks, picking up on Keith’s joke, and shakes his head. When the bartender comes around, he hears Shiro order two Golden Lights. As they wait for the bartender to return with their beers, Shiro turns his back to Keith to scan the rest of the bar’s patrons. Keith watches him and eventually sees him nod to someone. Trying to follow his gaze, Keith sees a guy standing towards the back of the bar, leaning against the wall. When Keith sees him, he feels a knot form in his throat.

The guy is _massive._ He’s taller than even the Sendak guy Keith had met earlier in the week. Sendak, compared to this guy, seems short and stocky. This guy was nearing seven feet, but his muscles were lithe. The way he moves when he pushes himself from the wall and starts heading towards Keith is eerie – no man his height should move with the grace he moves with.

As he approaches, Keith notices that his hair is white and _long –_ long enough that the braid he has it in is thrown over his shoulder and hangs right where his ribcage would end. He’s dressed in a dark purple jacket, the enormous hood pulled up and over his eyes. His jeans are dark and ripped in several places, disappearing into a pair of black combat boots.

As soon as he reaches them, the bartender comes over with Shiro and Keith’s drinks. Shiro turns to pay, thanking the woman, before turning back around to greet the mysterious man.

“Keith,” Shiro says as he hands Keith’s beer to him. “This is Ulaz. Ulaz, meet Keith.”

“You didn’t tell me I should be expecting company,” Ulaz says, his tone flat.

Keith, despite the fact he should probably be terrified of a man almost a foot and a half taller than himself, feels anger spike in his system. Before he can snap something off, though, he feels a gentle hand touch him, right between his shoulder blades. He glances over at Shiro, whose face is still the model of courtesy. “Sorry about that, it was sort of last minute. I’ve already told him there would be some things you and I would have to discuss.”

Ulaz turns his passive gaze over to Keith. This close, Keith can finally see that Ulaz’s eyes are golden yellow, just as Sendak’s had been. Keith matches his gaze, his eyes narrowing. Something in Ulaz’s expression shifts then and he leans down, trying to get a closer look at Keith’s face. Keith feels Shiro’s hand on his back stiffen. Before he can interrupt, Keith says, “Is there a problem?”

Ulaz lets his eyes drop down Keith’s body and he backs away before meeting Keith’s gaze again. He says, “You remind me of someone, is all. Curious.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not them. I have no clue who you are.”

“I didn’t mean you _were_ them. I simply meant you remind me _of_ them. But… it is a curious thing.”

“What’s curious?” Shiro asks, casting his gaze between Ulaz and Keith.

“Nothing,” Ulaz says, finally standing straight again and peeling his gaze away from Keith’s. He turns to Shiro and asks, “Shall we?”

Keith feels Shiro shift next to him and then pressure on his temple as Shiro kisses him. He glances over, his cheeks pink, but then nods at Shiro as he walks away. He watches as Shiro and Ulaz walk over to the corner Ulaz had just come from and take a seat, leaning in close enough to each other that they could hear each other and still be drowned out by the music.

Keith sighs and turns, grabbing his beer from the bar. He takes a long drink, trying to settle his nerves. When he moves the bottle from his lips he glances around the bar, looking for a familiar face. He doesn’t see one, so he decides to settle where he is, hitching his hip up to take a seat on the bar stool.

As he sits and drinks, he tries to listen to the conversation around him. He hears a group of guys sitting on the couch nearby, talking shit to one another over who can take the most shots before the night is up. Apparently, one of them had taken that challenge last weekend and ended up in the hospital for two days, but he’s “definitely not going to lose tonight.”

_Idiot._

To his left, he hears a couple talking about their other partners. They were supposed to meet them here tonight, but they still hadn’t shown up. They wonder if the situation is too weird for the other two, that maybe they wanted to break up, but then why wouldn’t they come talk to them first?

Keith wonders about this one. He’d never really been in any sort of relationship before. He’d had crushes, sure, but most times he talked himself out of the relationship before it even started. He wonders, briefly, how someone could manage to be in a relationship – healthily, at that – with three different people.

_Sounds exhausting._

Keith lifts his beer to his lips and is about to start the process of tuning everyone out again when something said nearby catches his ear. He tries his best to act like he hadn’t heard, but with the way his eyes skirt to his left, if the pair had been paying attention, they would have known he was listening. He takes another long drink from his beer as he listens to the exchange.

“When is Sendak supposed to get here?” A man asks. His voice is deep, but smooth, the hint of an accent at the end of his words.

“Be patient, Haxus. He’ll be here soon.”

The second voice is a woman’s. The voice is sharp, with just enough hint of annoyance that Keith wonders if the pair are even friends. When he hears her final sentence, his heart drops. If Sendak is due to show, he and Shiro needed to leave, and leave _now._

As nonchalantly as he can, Keith downs the rest of his beer and stands. He’d ask Shiro to buy him another, just to get him away from Ulaz, then inform Shiro of who’s due to show up. They’d leave then, right? Once Shiro knew who was –

As soon as Keith turns to start walking to Shiro, he feels a heavy hand clamp his shoulder.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the pretty boy from the coffee shop. What are you doing here?”

Keith bristles. Slowly, he turns his attention around until his eyes meet Sendak’s. Sendak’s hair has grown out some, but is still kept short to his skull. He’s smiling, bearing teeth as sharp as fangs, and Keith feels a chill run down his spine.

As terrified as he is, though, Keith’s never known how to pick his fights.

“If it isn’t the ugly asshole that somehow knows how to ruin a person’s night. What are you doing here?”

Sendak’s eyes narrow, and his smile falters into a scowl. The hand still on Keith’s shoulder tightens as Sendak takes a step forward and leans into Keith’s face. Keith should back down, look away, but he doesn’t. He squares his shoulders and meets Sendak’s scowl with a scowl of his own.

“Hey, hey, hey no fighting in –“

“It’s okay, miss,” Sendak says to the bartender, cutting her off. “We were just leaving.”

Sendak straightens then and turns, heading towards the entrance. Keith glances to his right, where he notices the pair that he had overheard talking are now standing – getting up to follow Sendak out, no doubt. The woman that had spoken is one Keith immediately recognizes as Haggar – the woman that had been with Sendak originally. The other is a man he doesn’t recognize, around the same height as Sendak, but scrawnier. Keith curses his height.

_What is with all these fucking tall people lately?_

When the pair start to move to follow Sendak, Keith hesitates. He knows he shouldn’t follow. He knows what’s going to happen if he follows. But he also knows what’s going to happen if he doesn’t follow. If the trio had to come back in to retrieve him. Could he make it to Shiro in time? Could they make it out together in time? Probably not.

Better one person get hurt than both.

Keith squares his shoulders and follows the group outside. Since their backs are turned to him, he risks a glance back to where Shiro is sitting. He and Ulaz are still deep in conversation, not noticing anyone outside of their own personal bubble. Keith breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that Shiro won’t get up to follow.

When Keith gets outside, the night air has grown significantly colder. A breeze whips into his face and he shudders, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks stiffly behind the group. He follows them to the end of the block, where they make a left down a side street. There’s another bar down this way, across the street to their right – a place where, any time Keith goes, he manages to run into someone from high school that he’d rather not see.

Across the street from that bar, though, on the side of the road they walk on, there’s an alley that leads behind the bar they had just been in. They turn down that alley and walk about halfway in, ensuring that the group has fallen into shadows.

_How do I always fucking get into these situations?_

Sendak stops, as does Keith and the other pair. Sendak finally turns, eyeing Keith with a glare that says _this is it._ That they’re done playing.

Keith tries to relax. He takes a few steadying breaths and leans onto the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action at any given moment. Attempting to mask the anxiety rising in his throat, he says, “So? What do you want, big guy?”

Sendak rolls his shoulder and angles his chin to the side, letting his neck crack with a resounding _pop_ loud enough that Keith can hear, even from six feet away. The beast of a man levels his gaze back with Keith and says, “I wanna know what the fuck you’re doing here, and who you’re with.”

Keith pretends to think for a moment, weighing the question on the tip of his tongue. Finally, he says, “I came here alone, because I wanted a night away from my roommate. That satisfy your question?”

“ _Liar!_ ” Sendak growls and takes a step forward.

“Woah, man, chill,” Keith says, taking half a step backwards away from the man. “I don’t know what the big deal is here, or what fucking problem you have with me. I don’t even know you.”

“You’ve been hanging around Black, so don’t bulllshit me. We know what you’re trying to do, and we’re not going to just let you poke your fucking noses around Galra business.”

Keith pauses, his eyebrows crinkling together. _Galra?_

_Because why wouldn’t he be a fucking gang member._

“Look, Sendak, dude, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking –“

“He’s lying,” Haggar says, interrupting the tension. Keith turns his eyes to her and feels his eyes widen. Her hood is down, finally, revealing eyes just as yellow as Sendak’s. Her white hair is brushed back away from her face, revealing an intricate pattern of tattoos trailing under her eyes and along her jawline. It gives her an eerie quality, and something about the design strikes Keith to his very core.

He may have fucked up by coming here.

“What does he know?” The other man – Haxus? – asks, turning his attention from Keith to Haggar.

Haggar narrows her eyes at Keith, studying him. Keith feels exposed, like every thought or emotion he has is translated straight into Haggar. He grits his teeth, doing his best to hide anything from her, but it doesn’t work.

“He knows about the Galra now. He didn’t before. Black is here tonight, somewhere. They came together.”

_Damn it. So Shiro is Black. What the fuck does that mean, though?_

Keith scowls, clenching his fists. Sendak glances down at his fists and smirks, bringing his eyes back to Keith’s face. He cracks his knuckles together and says, “Looks like pretty boy here isn’t going to talk without putting up a fight first. We can fix that.”

“Just don’t kill him,” Haggar says, her tone flat – bored. “We were told no casualties.”

“I won’t kill him,” Sendak says, beginning to advance forward. “He looks like he can take a punch.”

And then, chaos erupts.

Sendak closes the last few feet in no more than two steps, bringing his right fist back and slamming it forward. Keith manages to lift his arms just in time so that Sendak’s fist doesn’t connect with his face, but the impact on his arms blows him back. He stumbles back, but catches himself with his back foot just as Sendak advances again. This time, Keith is more prepared, and ducks around Sendak’s fist, planting his feet in place and shoving to the right with his shoulder. His shoulder connects with Sendak’s ribs, but Sendak seems unphased. He simply wraps his arm around Keith’s waist and picks him up.

_Shit. Shit, shit shit!_

Before Keith can think of a way to escape Sendak’s grasp, Sendak launches Keith into the wall. Keith hits the wall, _hard_ , and feels the air leave his lungs. His head smacks the wall and he’s momentarily blinded, but his instincts kick in and he forces his eyes open just in time to see Sendak’s fist coming straight for his face. With a yell, he pushes his body with his arm, rolling away from Sendak’s coming fist. Sendak’s fist hits empty air and he turns just as Keith is rolling back onto his feet.

It’s all the leverage Keith needs.

Before Sendak can gather himself, Keith rushes forward, his right fist connecting hard to Sendak’s jaw. Sendak stumbles and Keith doesn’t give him time as he ducks down, kicking out his leg and hooking his foot behind Sendak’s ankle. He pulls, causing Sendak’s foot to kick up and for the beast of the man to lose balance. Keith rushes forward again, ducking his shoulder down and making contact with Sendak’s diaphragm. He hears Sendak cough, the breath leaving his lungs at the contact, just as he falls, back hitting the pavement.

If Keith would have had a knife, he would have pressed his luck and rushed forward to press the knife to Sendak’s neck. But he doesn’t, so his only option is to back off and wait for round two.

As he waits, he keeps his fists in the air, just below his eyesight. He scans his eyes back and forth quickly, making sure Haggar and Haxus don’t pursue him. He spends his few precious moments trying to catch his breath back, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head.

Sendak isn’t down for long.

The mammoth throws himself up with a snarl. He rushes forward – _too fast!_ – and stays low, knocking right into Keith and throwing him to the ground. Keith lands hard, but manages to keep his head off the pavement. He feels the burns in his back, though. His shirt had lifted just as he fell, so when he skids across the pavement, his skin smears itself across the cement. He cries out, the pain temporarily blinding him, just as Sendak lands on top of him and brings his fist back. Keith tries to throw his arms up but he’s too late, and Sendak’s fist meets Keith’s face with a sickening _crunch_. Pain erupts just below Keith’s left eye and he takes in a gasping breath – all of the fear he felt earlier flooding his system. He throws his arms up just as Sendak’s fist comes down again, but there’s nothing he can do. Sendak is just too _big_. They had said they wouldn’t kill him, but it _hurts._ If he doesn’t break away soon, he’s going to pass out, and there’s no telling what’ll happen then.

He has to fight.

Keith thrashes, bucking his hips up to try to throw Sendak off of him. Sendak temporarily loses his balance, and Keith, hopeful, tries to push his arms forward to shove Sendak off of him. It doesn’t work and Sendak grabs his wrists, pinning them above his head just as Sendak’s left fist comes down, connecting with the right side of Keith’s jaw. With the angle of their bodies, though, the punch isn’t as strong as the other had been. Keith feels his lip split, but nothing breaks.

Just as Sendak lifts his fist to swing again, a dark shadow flashes over him and suddenly, the entirety of Sendak’s weight is off Keith. Keith can hear movement, but he can’t lift his head. Everything is starting to go dark and he breathes in short, shallow breaths. He tries his hardest to keep his eyes open and eventually sees flashing blue and red lights, indicating that the cops had finally shown up. Keith tries to move to sit up, but his head spins and he immediately drops it back onto the pavement. He lets out a pained moan, scrunching his eyes closed, feeling himself drifting, drifting…

“Keith!” He hears, the voice panicked. Suddenly there’s a hand cradling his face, careful to avoid any of his new injuries. “Keith, wake up. Come on. You have to stay awake.”

Keith squints his eyes open and, slowly, his vision starts to focus onto Shiro’s face. The picture never entirely clears before his eyes close again, his eyebrows scrunching with effort, causing a wave of pain through the left side of his face that makes him gasp.

“Damn it,” he hears Shiro say, his voice cracking. Is he crying? “Damn it, Keith, I’m so sorry. I should have been here. I shouldn’t have let you come.”

“Shut up,” Keith manages to say. He tastes copper in his mouth and he opens his mouth, trying to spit out whatever blood he can. “This isn’t – your fault –“

“I know, but –“

“Stop,” Keith says, his voice hardening. He tries to open his eyes again but he can’t. He tries to move but he can’t. He fights to stay awake, to win against the quickly-approaching darkness, but he can’t.

Moments later, the darkness takes him.

He’s vaguely aware of being picked up and placed on something semi-soft – a stretcher? He doesn’t want to go to the hospital, he’ll be _fine_ , but he can’t open his mouth to say so. He feels the stretcher lifted into the back of an ambulance and hears the doors slammed once he’s securely inside. He wonders, briefly, if Shiro has come with him, when he hears one of the nurses ask, “What happened?”

“He got in a fight. I was inside Striker’s and I didn’t see him leave. I don’t know –“

“Don’t beat yourself up too much over it,” the nurse says. “He’s alive. That’s all that matters.”

Shiro is quiet after that. Keith hears the sirens start up and is jostled as the ambulance starts moving. He does his best to cling to consciousness, but he fades in and out, in and out until, finally, he stays out for good.

The next time he comes to, he wishes he hadn’t.

The first thing he’s aware of is the pain. His left eye is throbbing and his bottom lip feels three times as big as it should be. He hears the steady beeping of a machine not too far away from his right side, indicating that he did, in fact, have to stay in the hospital. He takes a few steadying breaths before risking opening his eyes. His left eye doesn’t move at all and pain shoots through his head, causing him to grimace and squeeze his other eye closed again. His breathing comes quicker, steady panic rising in his chest as he tries to figure out how to deal with the pain.

Suddenly, he hears a chair screech, then fingers – warm, strong – wrap around his arm. He hears another chair screech and a girl’s voice, “Keith?”

Pidge.

Keith moans, indicating that he had heard her but he was in too much pain to reply. He hears a voice next to him ask, “How are you feeling?”

Shiro.

Keith swallows and, without opening his eyes, croaks, “Like death.”

He hears Shiro sigh and pull his chair over so that he can sit closer, his fingers still wrapped around Keith’s bicep. His thumb rubs gently over the skin there and Keith tries to focus on that feeling, rather than the pain in his face.

“I’d say so,” Pidge says. Not one to beat around the bush, she continues, “Your left cheekbone is fractured. Thankfully, it didn’t shatter, but you’re going to be feeling that one for a while. Your lip is busted, and your back has road rash all to hell. What the _hell_ were you thinking, Keith?”

“Pidge –“ Shiro starts.

“It’s okay,” Keith croaks again, swallowing to try to lubricate his sanded throat. When was the last time he had had a drink? How long had he been asleep? “It was stupid. I should have said something –“

“No, I should have been there,” Shiro interrupts, his voice thick.

“There’s no use beating yourself up over Keith’s mistake, Shiro. No one _forced_ him to follow those guys out. You watched the security footage. You know he did it without thinking twice.”

“I didn’t –“ Keith starts, scrunching his eyes closed tighter before finally forcing the right on open. He moves his eye around the room, his vision blurry, until he finds what he’s pretty sure is Shiro. “-I didn’t want you getting hurt, too.”

Shiro sighs, running his free hand over his face. He leans forward, staring hard at Keith. “What did I say before we went in there? I told you, _I told you,_ that if anything happens, I would protect you. And I didn’t.”

Keith studies him for a moment, trying to place why he’s so upset. It’s clear whose fault this is – even Pidge agrees.

_So why?_

“I’d be dead if it weren’t for you, Shiro.”

Shiro meets Keith’s gaze and narrows his. He says, “They were on no-kill orders. You wouldn’t be. You wouldn’t even be in this hospital bed if I had just _stayed_ with you.”

_Suddenly, Keith is standing on a precipice, Shiro on the other side. There is a crack in the ground between them, rapidly spreading, pulling them apart. Keith watches, helpless. He holds out a hand, reaches for Shiro. Shiro looks down at his outstretched hand, brings his eyes to meet Keith’s again, and  shakes his head. He turns his back, and walks away. Keith yells after him, his voice cracking, but he doesn’t make a sound. He keeps trying, keeps opening his mouth, only to make no noise. Shiro keeps walking and there’s nothing Keith can do to stop him. He sinks to his knees, helpless, and watches Shiro walk away._

“I’m going to go get some fresh air. I’ll be back,” Shiro says, standing and heading to the door.

“Wait –“ Keith says, suddenly desperate to get him to just _stay_ , but the door is already closing behind Shiro.

He doesn’t come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started this chapter, I told myself I was going to make it nothing but happy, because you all deserved it after having to wait so long for an update. BUT, it's me, and I wouldn't know a happy chapter if it leapt up and punched me in the face. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I don't plan on making you wait as long for the next one. I'll be out of work for a while in the weeks ahead, so I'm hoping to update at least twice during that time. We'll see!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Let me know what you think so far. <3
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by my very dear friend, [uptca](https://twitter.com/uptca). Thanks a million, babe. <3


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